


Where You Exist, So Too Shall I

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: Gravity [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nesting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 100,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: In any world, at any time, I exist to show you the ways I love you.-Small ficlets and prompts for a variety of pairings.





	1. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Delay

Sighing, Lance glanced out of the window. Both of his alphas were out getting groceries, and had been gone since early that morning. Lance had still been asleep when they left which was probably for the best. He was four months pregnant now, and going through a phase where every slight inconvenience left him in tears. His alphas hated to see him cry almost as much as he hated crying, but he just couldn’t help it. Having them leave early prevented any tears, despite the fact that he missed waking up with them.

“Hopefully they’ll be home soon,” he complained, as he ran his fingers through Blue’s fur. The cat purred, completely content to lay across Lance’s lap like a rug. He’d found her abandoned on the streets a few years ago, and when he moved into this house with his mates, she’d come with him. It was quiet out here, peaceful and friendly. Their closest neighbours weren’t within hearing distance so Blue was usually his only company when his alphas were out.

Lance had already finished everything he had planned for the day. While household chores were usually shared between the three of them, he took it upon himself to clean up the house while his mates were out. It was only fair, considering he couldn’t help them with the groceries anymore. He’d washed all their clothes and hung everything out to dry, and had made the bed. He’d started on dinner too, peeling and chopping vegetables, preparing a stew. 

Absentmindedly, Lance rubbed a hand over his baby bump. It was getting bigger now, a gentle curve between his hips that made his back arch ever so slightly. He was already so in love with his baby that he could hardly believe it. He loved how much his alphas loved the baby, too. Shiro would coo and rumble at his bump when he thought Lance was sleeping, and Keith constantly scented him, palms spread wide over Lance’s taunt skin.

“What do you think, Blue?” Lance asked, as he scratched under her chin. “You think Shiro and Keith will be back soon?”

Blue continued to purr, stretching languidly. She rolled over to expose her belly, making Lance laugh quietly. Normal cats didn’t like their bellies being touched, but Blue absolutely loved it. Only when Lance pet her there, though. Not even Shiro and Keith were allowed, and she was their cat now, too. She’d taken some time to warm up to them but now she treated them as personal furniture, which was just about the best compliment one could get from a cat.

Out of nowhere, Blue suddenly jerked upright, her ears perked high. She ducked her head low, shoulders hunched, staring intently at the door. 

“Blue? What is it?”

After a moment, she settled again, but she clearly wasn’t as relaxed as she’d once been. Lance carefully set her down and moved to the window, trying to see what had gotten her so worked up. It was late afternoon outside, the world turned a warm orange that slowly bled into cold blue. He would have thought his mates would be home by now, but maybe something had delayed them. 

Just to ease his paranoia, he double-checked that the doors were locked, and then pulled the curtains shut. 

“Maybe I should call them,” he murmured to himself, as he searched for his phone. Ringing Keith’s number made his ringtone peal through the empty house; Keith had forgotten his phone at home. Lance silently cursed him and dialled Shiro’s number instead, only to be met by the robotic voicemail operator. Was his phone turned off? Had it run out of charge?

Worry coiled in his stomach. He rubbed at his baby bump and tried to tell himself to be patient. It wasn’t like he was in danger. Just because he was pregnant didn’t mean he was suddenly incapable of caring for himself. Sure, he would have felt a lot better if his mates were with him, but he couldn’t always have what he wanted. They needed groceries, which meant someone had to go out and get them. 

“Come on Blue, I should work on dinner.” Lance wandered into the kitchen, his cat at his heels. Blue liked to sit on the dining table while he cooked, watching him or dozing. She generally followed him anywhere he went, and he welcome the company. The house was feeling increasingly lonely without Shiro or Keith around.

Dinner progressed as slowly as he could get it to. He was mostly using whatever they had leftover in the fridge – he didn’t want to waste anything. His mother had always taught him to use up every ingredient they had, and if it couldn’t be used, then to recycle it in some way. Compost, feeding scraps to the chickens – she’d had all sorts of ways of using food when he was growing up, and he liked to think he’d gotten his house to be as waste-free as he could.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have liked some fresh ingredients, though. Distracted, he tried to call Shiro again, but he faced the same problem as before.

They were probably just running an errand, or something. Maybe they’d bumped into a family member and had been roped into an unavoidable conversation. It was likely that Shiro’s phone had run out of charge. Hadn’t he mentioned that he needed a new charger cable? His old one was breaking. Lance was pretty sure Blue chewed on it when no one was home.

He had nothing to worry about. Really, he should have been relaxing, enjoying the quiet. He didn’t rely solely on his mates to function. He was an adult, dammit, and he could stand to be alone for a few hours longer than expected. Technically, he wasn’t ever really alone, was he? He had his baby with him all the time, safely tucked away inside of him. 

By the time dinner was ready, Lance’s worry was starting to get out of control. He portioned out their meals and set aside the extras, but when he realised his mates wouldn’t be home in time to eat the food warm, he put it all back in the pot to keep it heated. To distract himself, he fed Blue, and spent some time folding the laundry he’d washed that day.

Still no sign of his mates.

He was contemplating calling his friends and family to see if they’d seen them when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Panicked, he rushed to the door as fast as he could, flinging it open to see if it was Shiro’s car he had heard. Tears prickled at his eyes when he realised it was.

Keith was up and out of the passenger side of the car before it had really come to a stop. At the sight of Lance’s teary expression he rushed over, letting out a concerned rumble as he did. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking Lance over with worried eyes. “Is the baby okay? Lance?”

“Where have you been?” Lance demanded, pawing at Keith’s shirt. His fingers twisted in the fabric, holding tight. “I was so worried! Why didn’t you take your phone?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot it,” Keith said. He held Lance close as Lance slumped against him, huffing out wet breaths. Shiro appeared beside them, rumbling inquisitively. He bent to rub his nose against Lance’s neck and hair, smothering him in his scent. It was something the alpha always did when his omega was upset, and it helped to calm down Lance’s raging instincts.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Lance demanded.

“I’m sorry, love, it died on me,” Shiro apologised. He ushered Lance closer, breathing in his scent. “God, I missed you. There was a car accident on the road and traffic was backed up for ages. The road didn’t even open until all the debris had been cleared away. I’m pretty sure all our frozen groceries have defrosted by now.”

Lance sniffled. He let his mates scent him, and started to calm down as their hands touched his stomach, mapping out the shape of his bump. “I thought something bad had happened to you,” he whimpered.

“Oh, Lance,” Shiro sighed. He held both Lance and Keith tightly for a moment, and then directed them in. “Let’s head inside, alright? Then we can eat and cuddle and do whatever you want. I’m sorry for worrying you, baby.”

“Just take your phone with you next time,” he mumbled, embarrassed, as he swiped at his eyes. “Damn hormones.”

They both laughed quietly. “You sure you’re alright?” Keith asked. His eyes were intense and worried – clearly, being away from his pregnant omega for so long had stressed him out just as much as it had Lance.

“I’m alright,” Lance nodded. He patted his baby bump. “The baby is okay, too. Just hungry!”

Shiro chuckled. “Alright, let’s get you both inside, then. Wouldn’t want my precious mates to go hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) is open to suggestions ^^


	2. Keith/Lance - Bet

It wasn’t like they were unbearable. Lance liked showing affection almost as much as he loved receiving it, and that inevitably led to some public hand-holding and cuddling and bickering. By now it was more habit than a conscious decision, but Lance did like to kiss Keith, too. It was usually only on the cheek or chastely against the lips if they were in public, but he could see how others might be annoyed by that. 

But this was getting a little out of hand.

“It’s not like I have to hold his hand to survive,” Lance whined, as Pidge gave him a deadpanned stare. “I just like it! He is my boyfriend, you know.”

Pidge snorted. As someone who experienced pretty much zero sexual attraction to anyone or anything, Pidge had assured him that his PDA was over the top. Of course, Lance firmly believed that Pidge’s view was biased, but he wasn’t going to say that. “You couldn’t go one day without kissing him,” they declared.

Expectedly, neither Lance nor Keith could back down from a challenge. They were both stupidly stubborn and stupidly determined, which wasn’t a very good combination. Especially not when the two of them were working together, rather than against one another, which was the usual situation. 

And so the bet began. If Keith and Lance expressed any form of affection during the day they’d lose and each owe Pidge a favour (it didn’t sound terrifying, but knowing Pidge, it definitely was). If they won, then Pidge would owe them. It seemed simple enough. All Lance had to do was keep his hands off his boyfriend. Off his ridiculously hot, ridiculously lovable boyfriend. The one who secretly loved all of Lance’s touchy-feely crap even if he would never admit it to anyone. 

Alright, so maybe it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought it would be.

Lance and Keith shared most of their university classes. They sat with each other, and while they watched lectures, it wasn’t unusual for them to hold hands or something equally as affectionate. Lance was partial to drawing patterns on Keith’s palms when he could convince his edgy boyfriend to ditch his usual fingerless gloves. But there was none of that today.

It seemed like they could manage, for the first few hours. They drifted between classes – it was easier in the ones they didn’t have together – and shared their breaks with their friends. They had a study session in the library after lectures were done with Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Matt, and Allura, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. They didn’t share the same classes, and Shiro, Matt, and Allura were a few years above them, but they were all friends and made time to get together even if it was just to study.

“That is a ridiculous bet,” Matt said, when Pidge told him why Lance and Keith weren’t sitting as close as they usually did. Apparently, leaning against one another counted as physical affection. “They’re definitely not going to manage.”

“We’re sitting right here,” Lance huffed, indignant. “I’m not reliant on Keith’s attention, you know!”

Matt raised a brow, eyes bright and mischievous. He could be more devious than Pidge sometimes, which was saying a lot. “You two are always all over one another,” he joked.

“Untrue,” Keith muttered.

Lance nodded in agreement. They really weren’t – the Holts just liked to tease. Lance was far more affectionate with Keith in the privacy of their apartment. Keith didn’t really like public displays of affection, so Lance kept it to a minimum. Hand-holding and chaste kisses was all that was on the table for them, and Lance was alright with that. He really loved his boyfriend, okay? They hadn’t always gotten along, but most of that had been repressed feelings, he thought. He was glad to have someone like Keith, someone who could put up with his antics and kept up with his bickering.

“Leave them be,” Allura scolded, but there was no heat in it. “They’re not too bad around us. Shiro, you hold my hand just as much as Keith holds Lance’s.”

Shiro’s ears went red as Matt and Pidge snickered. “Don’t bring me into this,” he mumbled, though he smiled when Allura shot him a grin. Everyone knew she liked to make Shiro blush, mostly because it was easy for her to do.

“You can say that because you haven’t walked in on them making out,” Pidge complained, giving an exaggerated shiver. “It’s like tongue city.”

“It is not!” Lance squawked. “And that was one time.” It wasn’t his fault Pidge didn’t know how to knock. They were in their own apartment! With the door shut! What, did they need a ‘do not disturb’ sign too?

Pidge poked their tongue out.

“Do you really think you can win this bet, though?” Hunk asked, giving Lance a sceptical look. He probably knew Lance the best out of all of them, and had this uncanny way of knowing what Lance was thinking.

If Lance were being honest, he didn’t like having to hold back from Keith. He was so used to their subtle signs of affection that without them, he felt kind of lonely. It wasn’t like they were together all day every day, they had their own lives, responsibilities and a healthy amount of alone time. But when they were together, Lance liked to take advantage of their closeness.

As it turned out, Lance could not win the bet. 

It was Keith that got fed up with it. He looked as miserable as Lance felt, and as they were leaving the library later that afternoon, he grabbed Lance by the face and planted a kiss straight on his lips. Lance was so surprised by it that he hardly had time to reciprocate the kiss, but he did have enough brains to seize Keith’s hips and hold him close.

“I don’t care if we lose the stupid bet,” Keith muttered, grabbing for Lance’s hand like he was afraid someone would take it away from him. “I’m kissing my boyfriend.”

Lance beamed, feeling giddy. “You’re right, the bet is stupid. Kiss me again.”

Keith snorted, but obliged. Pidge made a gagging noise in the background, but Lance could tell there was no animosity in it. There was a very big chance Pidge wasn’t bothered by them at all, and simply wanted to trick them into owing them a favour, but Lance didn’t care.

Maybe Lance wasn’t the only one feeling lonely. Knowing that Keith wanted him as much as he wanted Keith made him feel like he’d won the bet, anyway.


	3. Keith/Lance - Misunderstanding

“It’s really coming down now, huh?”

Lance sunk down lower in the car seat, fiddling with his phone. It wasn’t on, but he turned it between his fingers over and over anyway, just so he wouldn’t start picking at a loose thread on his sweater or at his nails. He had his feet propped up on the dash and it made it easier to hide behind his knees. Not that he was hiding, because he wasn’t. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith glanced at him. “It’s probably not going to stop soon, is it?”

Lance tried not to pout, he really did. He could feel Keith watching him but couldn’t even bring himself to tell Keith off for not looking at the road when he really should have been. It had been pouring outside for the last ten minutes, the rain having finally picked up from the light drizzle it’d been all morning. Everything was grey and wet and cold, and usually he liked it. He loved the way rain made the world feel simpler. It brought a calmness to his mind that little else could. But he just wasn’t in the mood for it today.

“Lance.” Keith sounded exasperated now, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He shot Lance another questioning look, one that went unanswered. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair of him to take out his frustrations on Keith, but Lance had an awful habit of bottling things up and letting them out at the worst time possible. Now, on the way to Lance’s parents’ house for dinner, was definitely not a good time, but here he was. 

Keith muffled a surprised grunt under his breath as the rain started to come down even harder. He tried to adjust the windshield wipers, but upon finding them already set as fast as they could go, instead began to ease down the car’s break. This road wasn’t the smoothest, and the rain was coming down so hard that it was flooding the street’s drains and creating a film of rushing water over everything. After a minute of fighting against it, Keith flicked on the indicator and pulled over.

“I’m going to have to wait until the rain lets up a bit,” he said. “It’s not safe enough to drive.”

Although he agreed, Lance didn’t say anything. They’d be late to dinner but his parents would forgive them considering how bad the rain had become. This weather really wasn’t the greatest for driving. The rain was so heavy that it sounded utterly deafening against the car, and it muddied Lance’s view of the road. He wasn’t even the one driving and he was struggling to see the road signs. Even the headlights reflecting against the road’s cat’s eyes were difficult to make out.

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you acting like this?” Keith demanded, turning the ignition off with a jerk of the key. He unbuckled his seatbelt to face Lance, his face bathed in the moving shadows of the rain just outside the window.

“It’s nothing,” Lance mumbled, even though he was upset. It had been on his mind for days now. It was just… it sounded pathetic, even to himself. But it was bothering him, and it was sort of Keith’s fault, even if Lance didn’t want to blame him. Things had been tense between them because of the way Lance was acting but he didn’t know how to bring it up and so the tension had only become worse and worse. Granted, he hadn’t done much to fix it.

“It’s clearly not nothing. If you don’t tell me, then how can I know what I did wrong?”

Lance bit his lip, and rubbed his hands across his arms. It was cold in the car without the heater on, and the rain outside wasn’t helping. “It’s just– it’s nothing, okay? Just forget it.” 

Keith made another frustrated noise. He reached across the centre console and caught Lance’s hand, waiting until Lance met his eyes to talk. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded, his fingers tightening around Lance’s. Even in the cold, Keith somehow managed to be so warm. In the end it was his open, imploring expression that crackled Lance’s resolve. 

“It’s just– my parents love you, right? They’re always wanting us to come over and so we go over heaps and you’ve met my entire family, even my weird aunt, and I don’t even think I’ve let Hunk meet my weird aunt,” he babbled, his words tripping over themselves. “But I’ve never… I’ve never met your family, not even your parents, and I heard– I overheard you on the phone with them the other day…”

Keith winced, clearly understanding what Lance was getting at. “You heard?”

“You said you didn’t want them to meet me.”

Keith pursed his lips together.

“Even though you know how important family is to me.”

Keith sighed. He was quiet for a long moment, his brows furrowed with thought. He looked uncomfortable, just like he did anytime his family was brought up. Lance could understand his hesitance, he knew Keith’s relationship with his family was strained, but they’d been dating for almost two years, and had known each other for longer. 

“It feels like you’re ashamed of me,” Lance whispered, eyes downcast.

“Lance…” Keith trailed off, and was silent again. He’d always had trouble with words, but Lance had learned to be patient with him. “I’m not ashamed of you. If anything, it’s my parents I’m ashamed of,” he admitted. “You know my mother was never really there for me, and my dad did his whole disappearing act for a few years when I was growing up… I’ve never really forgiven them for abandoning me like that.”

“I know.” Lance squeezed Keith’s hand. 

“I do want you to meet them,” Keith said, “but just… not yet. I want them to meet you because they understand how much I love and care about you. I want them to want it because they understand how important you are to me. But I feel like they’re only interested because they feel like they should be, or because they want to pry into my personal life. It’s hard to explain…”

Lance understood. He could never begin to fully comprehend Keith’s complicated feelings towards his parents, but that he understood. Keith wanted his parents to show that they really, truly cared, not that they were acting how they thought a good parent should be. “I didn’t mean to be so miserable these last few days. I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it. I didn’t mean for you to overhear my conversation with them, I knew you would be upset if you heard it. And I really do want you to meet my family Lance, but my parents just aren’t ready.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe you could meet Shiro, instead?”

“I have met Shiro,” Lance said, confused. Keith lived with Shiro, the man who all but raised him in his parent’s steed when he was just a teen himself. 

“Yeah, but maybe we can have dinner or something,” Keith said, “so you can meet him as the man who raised me, not just as the guy I’m living with.”

Something in Lance warmed at the suggestion. He gave Keith a small smile and nodded. “Okay. Sounds perfect.”

Keith smiled too. He looked so handsome when he did, the lines of his face softening with something youthful. Lance wished he’d smile more. When Keith leaned closer to stamp that handsome little smile against Lance’s lips, Lance met him halfway.

“Okay.” Keith shifted back into his seat and buckled his seatbelt. “Let’s get to your parents’ house before Marco eats all the food.”

Lance snorted with laughter. “He’s probably already eaten it all, knowing him!”


	4. Lance/Shiro - Balanced

There was something incredibly balanced about having a pregnant omega around, Shiro thought. Not in the sense that his life felt balanced, per say (although it definitely did), but rather in the sense that all of his worries and thoughts suddenly felt like they’d been put on a set of scales. Was his need for a drink in the middle of the night worth waking his pregnant omega for? Was his routine cup of coffee in the morning worth making his omega feel nauseous because of the smell? Did he really want to work back that extra hour when it meant one more hour away from his beloved and their growing baby?

It was a thought that struck him one evening – the thought about balance. Perhaps it was because he was watching Lance teeter on the tips of his toes to reach the upper cupboards, something that used to be much easier when he didn’t have a baby bump to worry about. Six months along had Lance with a very noticeable curve to his stomach, a protruding roundness between his hipbones that arched his back and made him look soft at the edges. 

Shiro would never say it out loud, but he liked the way pregnancy made Lance seem rounder. Not only because it was proof that his omega was carrying his baby, but because it made Lance look extra cute, too. It seemed impossible that his mate could be so adorable, even with his mischievous tendencies and goofball nature – and his horribly cliché pick-up lines. 

Being the doting alpha he was, Shiro reached for the plate Lance wanted and handed it to him so that he didn’t have to exert himself. Lance simply grinned in thanks, more than used to Shiro stepping in to help him now. It wasn’t because Shiro thought Lance couldn’t handle it himself, but because he _liked_ taking care of Lance. Liked feeling useful. He was glad Lance allowed him to be so attentive, and that he didn’t feel like Shiro was treating him like an invalid just because he was pregnant.

If anything, Lance’s pregnancy just made Shiro think he was all the more stronger. 

“Do you think we can work on the putting the crib together tomorrow?” Lance asked, as he began to portion out their dinner – salad and chicken strips covered in garlic and herbs, per Lance’s cravings. “I want to start setting up the furniture in the nursery before I’m too big to be of any help.”

Shiro laughed quietly. “I can put it together tomorrow morning, if you want,” he offered.

Lance gave him a relieved look. “That would be perfect, actually. I don’t think I could put that thing together even with all the time and patience in the world.”

To be fair, the crib did have rather complicated instructions. They’d bought one that came flat-packaged and needed putting together, even though that was more difficult than buying one already standing. This one was the one that Lance liked the most, and the one that matched the nursery, with pale, natural wood, sturdy bars and little ornate designs along the headboard piece. Their baby would be sleeping in a wicker bassinet in their bedroom until they were ready to be moved into the nursery, so building the crib wasn’t on the top of Shiro’s urgent to-do list.

But Lance wanted it done, so he would.

He’d do anything and everything Lance wanted, if he could. 

Even if that meant going thirsty at night because Lance had finally, finally fallen asleep, and just happened to be pressed against Shiro from head to toe. Even if that meant going without coffee for nine months even though he loved it because the smell of it made Lance run for the bathroom. Even if that meant sacrificing his hour of overtime pay because Lance needed Shiro to be home for him, not only for company but for support because carrying a baby was hard and emotional. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lance asked, one thin brow arched as he gave Shiro an amused, teasing look. “You have a really sappy look on your face right now.”

Caught red-handed, Shiro could only smile, completely enamoured with his omega – like always. “Just thinking about you,” he said. “And the baby,” he added.

Lance laughed, one of his hands absentmindedly going to his stomach. He had long, slender fingers – really pretty hands, Shiro thought – but they looked small against the bump of his stomach. “You know, the baby always gives me a little kick when they hear your voice,” Lance says, gently drumming his fingers. “Like when you bend down to say good morning to them when I wake up. Or when you raise your voice just a little to talk to them. They always kick, every single time.”

Shiro’s face coloured red with surprise and delight. “Really?”

“Yep! They know who their daddy is.”

Shiro’s grin grew broader. The glow of becoming a father still hadn’t warn off, not even now that Lance was six months along. He didn’t think it ever would, not even when his baby was all grown up twenty years down the track. Certainly not in the next three months, anyway. 

Unable to help himself, he gestured Lance closer, and put his arms around his omega’s waist, the baby bump between them. Shiro was only wearing a thin shirt, and Lance a sweater, so with their stomachs pressed together he could feel the baby kick, just gently. Something proud and loving and exuberant swelled in him, and the only way he could express it was by kissing Lance utterly breathless, so that was what he did.

“I can’t wait for the baby to be born,” he declared, the perfect picture of a happy alpha. 

“Me either,” Lance agreed, his eyes all gooey and dazed, his cheeks filled with pink. After a moment, a cheeky spark surfaced, and he gave Shiro an equally cheeky grin. “I want to see my feet again!”


	5. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Baby

“Edelira Shirogane, you bring that spoon back to me right now,” Lance huffed, leaning backwards to peer out of the kitchen and into the lounge room, where his cheeky four-year old had run off to. “That spoon has way too much sugar on it, little star!”

A sweet giggle rang from the lounge room. “Mama, no! I want it!”

Lance bit his lip, trying to muffle his amused smile. “But baby, don’t you want to share it with your brother? He sure looks hungry.”

There was a gasp, and then the pitter-patter of socked feet as Lira came rushing back into the kitchen. She was wearing her favourite light-blue sweater with a peter-pan collar under a white-and-yellow striped dress, one that reached her knees and had pockets. One pocket of which she’d lovingly placed her favourite toy inside before they’d started baking so that it could join them. The little rabbit plushie barely fit, and the pocket was deep so only its little ears stuck out, but Lira carried it with her everywhere.

“Does Lio want some?” Lira asked, holding out the wooden spoon she’d so fiercely coveted. It was covered in chocolate, some of which was slowly melting down towards her hands, but she was none the wiser. 

Lance glanced back at his second baby. Julio was a year and a half old now, and was much quieter than Edelira had been when she was his age. He still had a very youthful face with ridiculously chubby cheeks that Lance loved nothing more than to kiss. “How about it, my sweet little lion? Do you want some chocolate?”

Julio blinked his big, indigo eyes, watching Lance with his usual gooey, doe-like expression. When he registered the question, he gave Lance a grin, and reached out with both his little hands. He wasn’t much of a talker, just like his father – not because he couldn’t speak, but because he felt no need to, it seemed. He had a big sister who could do all the talking for him, anyway.

“Of course my big boy wants to have some chocolate,” Lance cooed, as he lifted Julio out of his high chair, smothering those soft cheeks in as many kisses as he could manage. “Lira, can you share with him? Mama has to check our cakes.”

“Okay, Mama,” Lira answered. She was already crouching down to take Julio’s hand, carefully helping him toddle out of the way of the oven, just like she’d been taught. She sat with Julio in front of the fridge, licked a stripe up the wooden spoon, and then held it so her brother could do the same. Lance couldn’t help but beam at them. His babies were so kind to each other, so keen to share the things they loved. He couldn’t have been prouder of them.

He and his pups had spent the morning baking cakes. Shiro and Keith were out running errands and weren’t expected back until later that afternoon, so Lance was hoping to get some work done around the house in the meantime. They should be home soon, and he was hoping to have the cake cooled by then, so they could have some without ruining their dinner. He was meant to go out with them, taking their pups too, but he’d been feeling a little unwell lately, and his mates insisted he stay home to rest.

Baking definitely counted as resting. Totally.

Besides, it’s what his babies wanted to do. Julio was more than happy to just sit and watch the world around him, but Edelira had a very curious, very active mind, and was always looking for something to keep herself entertained with. She loved mixing cake batter and cracking eggs and being their designated taste tester. And anything his baby loved, Lance was sure to love, too. 

In the back of his mind, Lance didn’t want to believe he was unwell. His stomach had been feeling off lately, giving little kicks and jolts that left him feeling nauseous and uneasy. He’d thought that perhaps he’d eaten something bad, or that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, but the feeling wasn’t going away. His mates were concerned. Shiro wanted him to go see a doctor and Keith wanted Lance to stay in bed so he could fuss, but Lance wasn’t prepared to do either of those things. He had babies to look out for, after all. He didn’t want a miss out on a single minute with them.

“Mama?” Lira was giving him a confused pout, her head tilted to the side. Her dark hair was pulled into two little buns on either side of her head, and her confused tilt made several curly strands fall out of her hair tie. She’d stopped offering Julio the spoon, and because of that he was looking at Lance too, his big eyes searching. 

“I’m alright, baby.” Lance forced a smile as he rubbed his hands down his flour-covered apron. He didn’t feel alright, though. That same nauseous feeling was swelling in his stomach, making his vision swim as he turned off the oven. Almost in a daze he reached for his tea towel to open the oven door, worried about the cake. 

The wave of heat that came out of it made his head spin. The oven clattered closed with a loud bang but it sounded so far away. He stumbled against the bench behind him and suddenly found himself on the floor, his back hitting the cupboard doors as he slumped down. He could hear his babies crying, and it made his omega instincts go wild, but he just didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. 

As best as he could, he tried to reach for his phone, and pressed it into Lira’s hands when she rushed to his side, her little face panicked. “Call Papa,” he mumbled, over and over. He wasn’t even sure if the words were coming out right or not. “It’s okay, baby. Call Daddy.”

And then everything became hazy, his eyes suddenly too heavy to open. He had no idea how much time passed until they opened again.

Someone was calling his name. He could hear his baby, his oldest baby crying, and the sound of his name being urgently said over and over. When he tried to open his eyes, it took several attempts, and even then everything was blurry and twisted and hard to make out.

“Shiro?” he croaked.

“It’s me, love,” Shiro said. He was kneeling beside Lance on the kitchen floor, propping Lance up from the tiles in his arms. “Come on, open your eyes.”

Lance did, and immediately groaned as a sharp pain went through his head. Shiro shushed him, urging Lance to hide his face in the crook of his neck, so Lance did. The scent of his mate eased his frantic heartbeat. “What happened?”

“You collapsed, love,” Shiro whispered. He slipped an arm under Lance’s knees and gently lifted him, like he weighed nothing in the world. Lance could smell something sharp and sour under Shiro’s scent, something frightened. Frightened for him, he realised.

“Where are the babies?” Lance mumbled. He lifted his head, trying to look around, but could only hear Lira crying in another room. Could only smell her scent. That made his pulse spike, his head jerking up. “Where’s my baby?”

Had Julio wandered out of the house while Lance was passed out? Had something happened to him when Lance wasn’t there to take care of him? Lance tried to struggle out of Shiro’s arms, whining a panicked, high-pitched whine. Had he lost his baby?

“Calm down, Lance,” Shiro ordered, his grip on Lance tightening. His voice was so steady and solid that Lance couldn’t help but whimper, disorientated and scared. Shiro took him to the lounge room and gently lowered him onto the couch. “Keith is looking for Julio now, Lance. He couldn’t have wandered far. I need you to stay awake now, and do as I say.”

Lance tried to nod but it made his head spin. He could hear a pitiful whining noise and it took him a moment to realise he was making it. Edelira pulled herself up onto the couch with him and cuddled into his side, her little fingers grasping at his clothes. Having his pup in his arms calmed him a little, and he held onto her, his whine changing to a low, comforting coo that he pressed into her dark hair. 

It was clear that Lira had managed to call at least one of her fathers. They mustn’t have been far from home – it was still light outside, so he couldn’t have been out for long. Just long enough for his son to wander away.

Then, from deeper in the house, there came a shout. “I found him! I found him. Don’t worry. He’s alright.”

Lance whined, eyes watery. He wanted to get up and rush to his son but made himself wait on the couch until Keith came into view, cradling Julio against his chest. He caught sight of Lance’s face and immediately came to pass the pup over, dropping down to crouch beside Lance on the couch so he could press his nose to Lance’s hair. Keith’s scent was just as sour with fright as Shiro’s was, but Keith wasn’t as good at concealing it. He scented Lance like he was angry, though Lance knew from experience he wasn’t. Just scared.

Julio hadn’t seem to notice what had happened. He pressed his hands to Lance’s chest to prop himself up and gave Lance a handsome grin, the same one he always did when he saw Lance. “Mama,” he said, puckering his lips.

Lance let out a weak laugh and leaned closer so that Julio could give him a wet kiss. That was something new he’d started doing lately. “Where did you wander off to, my little lion?”

But Julio, as aloof as his father, simply continued to grin on happily and laid himself back down against Lance’s chest. He seemed completely content to stare at his sister now, who stared on back with eyes as blue as Lance’s.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, as he lifted his eyes to look at his mates. 

“Don’t be,” Shiro told him, before Lance could say anything else. He was letting Keith work out all his instincts first, letting Keith scent him and the children before he himself would. But he did sit on the edge of the couch and put a possessive hand on Lance’s thigh, grounding them both with a simple touch. The heat of his hand was warm on Lance’s skin. “But I’ve asked Alfor to come check you out, okay?”

Lance nodded. Alfor was the father of one of their friends, Allura, and he happened to be a doctor. “I don’t know what came over me,” he whispered. “One minute I was fine, the next I was completely out cold.”

Shiro’s lips thinned into a worried line. He reached for the glass of water sitting on their coffee table – Lance didn’t even know when that had gotten there – and urged Lance to drink. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. 

Water cooled Lance’s throat and eased the pain in his head. He finished the glass and then cuddled his children closer, taking comfort in their scents and the scents of their fathers. He still felt shaken, knowing what could have happened to his children. As much as Lira was a strong willed, intelligent child, she was not responsible for her little brother’s well-being. Lance was.

“I couldn’t take care of my pups,” he whimpered. The sound of his shaky voice made both his children look at him, and their trusting, sweet faces broke his heart. Something really bad could have happened and he wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about it.

“It’s not your fault, Lance,” Keith insisted. He cupped the back of Julio’s head, his hand almost eclipsing his son’s hair. The attention made Julio, and in turn Edelira, settle again. “We knew you were sick, and we left you in charge of the children without any help. That was unfair of us.”

Lance shook his head. “I should have been able to–”

“No, Lance,” Shiro insisted, his voice gentle. His hand rubbed Lance’s leg as his scent, calm and reassuring, flooded the room. “This was an accident. Nothing bad happened.”

“Julio just wandered into the play room, and had the stuffed hippo in his hands,” Keith chimed in.

“Hippo!” Julio copied.

Lance felt the knot in his stomach slowly begin to ease. It was difficult, but he started to let go of his worry and his guilt. It wasn’t like he’d meant to pass out. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d tried. And his mates had been quick to respond, probably hadn’t even taken ten minutes to get home and fix the situation. He wasn’t seriously hurt, and his pups were completely fine, if a little shaken. If Lance calmed himself, then his pups would know everything was alright, and they’d never even remember this happened.

So he took in a few deep breaths, measuring his inhales and exhales, and let his scent relax into normalcy. Lira nestled into his side, her grip on his shirt loosening. Julio was still fine to lay where he was, eyes curiously regarding his sister. 

Carefully, Shiro leaned down to press a kiss to Lance’s lips. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered. “I was so worried when Lira called. I don’t even want to feel like that again.”

Lance could only nod in agreement. He watched with a warm feeling in his chest as Shiro nuzzled the back of Julio’s head and dropped an affectionate kiss to Lira’s cheek before settling back on the edge of the couch. Everyone seemed okay.

Curious, Lance couldn’t help but ask, “Is the cake alright?”

Keith snorted. The sound of his laughter made Julio giggle. “God, the cake is fine. A little crispy, though.”

Lance laughed too. “Oh no.”

“Oh no,” Julio repeated. Then he giggled again, grinning so wide his dimples showed. “Oh no, Mama.”

Lance laughed again.

 

Alfor arrived that evening, bringing with him his instruments from work. He did house-calls, and so he had everything he needed to carry out a full exam on Lance from the comfort of their home. Considering how close they all were with Allura, Alfor had become a part of their family, and they trusted his judgement.

“Well, I think I know what’s caused your dizzy spells,” he said, when he was done. He sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Lance, who was sitting up on the couch. The children had been left in the play room for a moment while Lance and his mates listened to Alfor.

“Is it bad?” Lance fretted.

Alfor laughed, surprised. “No, no, my boy. Not at all.” He leaned forwards to take Lance’s hand and smiled. “I think you’re pregnant again.”


	6. Allura/Lance/Shiro - Interests

Lance liked to think he and Allura had a lot in common. Not only appearance wise – dark skin, blue eyes, what he thought were nice, friendly smiles – but personality wise, too. They both cared about their loved ones, perhaps at the detriment to themselves, and they could sometimes get a little hot-headed. He liked having connections that made him feel closer to his girlfriend. He didn’t think any of those things were a bad thing, but rather he liked knowing he was similar, that they had similar personalities and interests. 

Like their boyfriend, for example. 

Shiro was tall and handsome and had a kind heart. He was a good leader, good at diffusing arguments, and generally kept a level head during stressful situations – something that Lance really appreciated in a person, if only because it was one of his more obvious shortcomings. 

It be fair, it wasn’t difficult to like Shiro. He was a good guy, and very affectionate when he wanted to be. He treated them both well. What more could either one of them have wanted?

On a more basic level, Shiro was also quite handsome. He had a great physique, kept in good condition from his fondness for running and visiting the gym, and he liked to dress smartly. He had a pretty decent sense of style, too. What Lance was getting at was that Shiro was a good catch. Allura too, for that matter. She was just as beautiful and just as kind hearted. 

Lance sometimes wondered where he fit in between the two of them. Anyone with eyes could see that Allura and Shiro made a good match, both looks and personality wise. Seeing them together made other people feel envious. They were a good team. A perfect power couple. Even if they sometimes clashed – which happened, no matter how much they loved each other – there was a certain solidity, a certain stability to them that seemed completely unshakable. 

And how was Lance meant to measure up to that?

According to Allura and Shiro, he did. Somehow. They didn’t like it when he thought less of himself, but it happened. He was getting better at believing those self-depreciating thoughts less and less, mostly because his boyfriend and his girlfriend loved to love him. Loved to see him love himself, too. Their confidence in him certainly helped.

But back to the present. Lance and Allura had a lot of things in common, and a lot of shared interests, but there was one thing that particularly struck a chord with the both of them: how attractive their boyfriend was.

Shiro was doing yard work. It was probably the most stereotypical thing to find attractive, but lo and behold, there they were. Their house had a classy fireplace which kept the majority of the lower level warm and toasty during winter. It was cheaper to buy wood before it was cut and divide it up themselves, and while Lance and Allura were both capable of swinging an axe, Shiro was a lot better at it.

He also kind of liked impressing his partners, and Lance was more than willing to be impressed.

In preparation for winter, which was just around the corner, Shiro was spending some time chopping wood in their spacious yard. They stored the wood in their shed where it was safe from frost and snow, and needed to get everything chopped before the nights became cold enough to leave a layer of ice over everything. 

“I swear his biceps are getting bigger,” Lance stated, as he and Allura watched Shiro from the back porch. “I mean, look at them. They’re bigger, right?”

“Oh, I’m looking,” Allura said, amused. Lance knew that she liked seeing Shiro chop wood almost as much as she liked seeing Lance drool over him. 

“He could totally break me with those arms,” Lance said. Shiro was only wearing a pair of (unfairly) tight pants and a shirt that clung to his muscles (also unfair). They were just clothes he could work in and get dirty, but god did Lance love him in them. In anything, really. Even in nothing.

Allura hummed thoughtfully. “I’d like to see that.”

Lance flushed, just like he always did when she made comments like that. Allura had a teasing side to her, but she didn’t often insinuate anything naughty or make innuendos, not like Lance had a habit of doing. Whenever she did, however, it always set Lance off. He fell for stuff like that far too easily, but how could he not when he had such beautiful people to pay attention to him?

“We totally have some free time, right?” Lance asked.

Allura smirked at him, unable to help herself. She always knew just how to rile him up and she hadn’t even touched him yet. She beckoned Lance closer, slipping her arms low around his waist when he was in reach. “I’m sure we could think of something… _interesting_ enough to distract our handsome Shiro,” she said, her lips far too close to his ear to be decent.

Lance shivered, leaning further into Allura’s grip. She was warm and he couldn’t help but put his hands on her waist, holding her closer. He was a few inches taller than her, but she had a way of making him feel smaller that he really liked. “What do you have in mind?”

Allura hummed, pressing her mouth to the sensitive spot behind his ear. Her eyes flickered over to Shiro, where the sound of wood chopping had stopped, as if she were daring him to come closer. She probably was, knowing her. She liked to challenge Shiro. 

“What are you two getting up to over there?” Shiro called, both amused and suspicious, in a light-hearted way.

Allura’s grin was downright triumphant. “Why don’t you come and find out?” She called back, before promptly spinning Lance around and trotting him inside. Shiro cursed and rushed in after them, which made Allura laugh.

Oh, how Lance loved them.


	7. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Spoon

Lance was used to being around alphas in rut. One of his brothers and his sister were both alphas, as was his father and a bunch of his cousins. He had a big family, so he’d grown up knowing the signs of approaching cycles – not only for alphas, but for omegas going onto heat, too. Sometimes he envied the neutral betas. 

Regardless, he knew the moment his alphas went into their rut cycle. Since mating, the two of them had synced up, which was sort of unusual. Usually an alpha’s cycle would sync up to their omega’s, but it wasn’t unheard of for alphas to match up before an alpha-omega pair did. Lance was pretty sure it had something to do with instinctual biology – by being as ready to go as any “competing” alphas, they had a better chance of producing offspring with an omega. 

Of course, having children was no competition, and he and both his mates understood that. They weren’t even trying to have children yet. All of them, Lance included, had decided to come off of their suppressants after mating. It was more comfortable, and less strenuous on the body. When they did want to eventually have children, Lance would encounter less problems if he was already weaned off his suppressants. 

He expected a little arguing to occur when their cycles came around. Alphas tended to get a bit hot-headed, a bit territorial. Shiro and Keith were pretty good at controlling themselves, but Lance didn’t expect them to be perfect. After all, he could be a downright nuisance when he was going onto heat. Clashing heads and moments of aggression were to be expected. Besides, when the two of them were feeling more like themselves, they always made a point to apologise to each other.

This, however, was getting a little out of hand. With every cycle that passed, Lance’s heat came closer and closer to syncing with their ruts, and the two of them became more and more keyed up. Lance’s omega hormones tended to stoke their instincts, and as much as he loved their attention, it could sometimes be too much when they were nearing their ruts. 

Like now, for example. 

“I’m trying to sleep,” Lance whined, as he felt hands grab at his waist. “Go solve your alpha problems out of the bedroom.”

Keith growled, but it wasn’t at Lance, just like it hadn’t been all evening. His fingers caressed Lance’s bare skin, slipping beneath his shirt to dig possessive little marks wherever he could reach. He was glaring up a storm at Shiro, whose patience was quickly wearing thin. 

They weren’t even arguing about anything important this time. It was completely ridiculous, even by Lance’s standards. They were arguing over who was going to be the big spoon.

And instead of just cuddling each other, they were adamant Lance was going to be the little spoon. Whether Lance wanted to be cuddled or not was completely unimportant. And for the record, Lance just wanted to sleep. He was feeling a little under the weather, a sign his heat was probably going to hit in a week or so, and he just wanted to rest. 

This argument of theirs had been going on all evening. It was like they suddenly couldn’t believe he could give them both affection at the same time. At one point in the evening he’d even escaped into the lounge room to rest on the couch, content to watch television by himself while his mates passive-aggressively growled at each other. He must have fallen asleep, because before he knew it Keith had squirreled him away to the bedroom. In theory, it was a sweet gesture, but Lance knew that he was just being competitive.

“Enough of that,” Lance sighed, as he batted Keith’s hands away. “I just want to sleep. Shiro, stop hovering over there and get in bed already.”

Shiro complied, fortunately. He pressed up against Lance as close as he could, letting out a quiet growl when he reached for Lance’s hips but found Keith’s hands instead. Lance let out a muffled groan as Shiro tugged him closer, arm sliding around his back. Keith, evidently unhappy, pulled Lance back with a growl of his own. 

“Enough!” Lance hissed. “I’m not a damn chew toy. Stop playing tug-of-war with me or else I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

His displeased scent seemed to finally snap his alphas out of it. Keith whined, high and apologetic as he pressed his mouth to the back of Lance’s neck. No kissing, no biting, just a gentle, comforting press, asking Lance to stay. Shiro didn’t whine – he wasn’t as vocal as Keith, was generally more in control of himself – but he didn’t lessen his grip on Lance’s hips, his palms smoothing down bare skin. If he happened to brush his hands over Keith’s as well, then neither of the alphas complained. In fact, Lance thought they rather liked getting attention from one another, even if they were too hormone-riddled to admit it at the moment.

“There, much better,” Lance said, when they finally settled. “God, what a pair of silly alphas I have.”

Keith whined again, nuzzling Lance’s neck. Shiro laughed quietly. As Lance’s unhappy scent began to fade, their content rumblings began. They did rumble like that normally, but it was more of an instinctual thing when they were close to rut. Lance liked this side-effect, though. Shiro’s voice tended to rumble deep within his chest, and it was incredibly soothing to lay his head against. It was the same for Keith.

Lance sighed, breathing in the scent of his mates. He could tell they were finally satisfied just because they smelled so good. As much as he disliked their rut-imposed competitiveness over him, he did love the way their scents became so potent. Resting between them made his eyes droop in the best way possible. 

After a few minutes, he was peacefully asleep again, his mates by his side.


	8. Lance/Shiro - Royal

Lance flinched as his nail scraped against the stone floor. He snatched his hands up and scowled at his newly broken nail. He knew working as a servant wasn’t going to be glamorous, but he had hoped to at least keep his nails intact. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his behalf, but he liked having soft hands, okay?

But soft hands and servant work weren’t two things that went together.

Sighing, Lance dumped his dirty rang into his bucket and stretched his arms high above his head. The royals were having a ball in two weeks, so all the servants had been relegated to cleaning duty, or at least the servants that could be spared. Lance usually washed and folded clothes and sheets, and organised other fabric furnishings like curtains and tablecloths. But considering there was so much cleaning to be done, he’d been sent out to scrub floors.

He supposed he shouldn’t complain. The Prince and his family were always very nice to their servants, and they paid them fair wages. All servants were even given quarters to reside in during their employment – rather nice quarters, to be honest. Lance had a comfortable bed with a decent mattress, a little table for hobbies, and a chest of drawers for his possessions. Servants were given both summer and winter uniforms to help fill the chest. 

Scrubbing floors really wasn’t on his list of things to do in life, though. He preferred washing clothes and folding laundry – at least the things he dealt with were already clean. Who knew floors could get so filthy? And they were cleaned twice a week already! 

Again, he shouldn’t complain, he reminded himself. He had a large family to provide for. Half of his wages went back to his mother and his siblings. The war a decade ago had left them displaced, but they’d found a home in this country, and were slowly making an honest living for themselves. Both his older brother and sister were working, his brother as a messenger and his sister as a letter-writer, but his younger brother was still too small to work, so they had to provide for him. Lance’s parents had also taken in his cousins – twins, a boy and a girl around the same age as his younger brother – so there were a lot of hungry, growing children to feed.

When the floor was finally scrubbed clean, Lance stood, and picked up the wooden bucket full of dirty water. He’d been tasked with cleaning the entryway to one of the smaller ballrooms, and now the floors were finally clean. His nails were much worse for it, but at least it was done. And done well, if he did say so himself.

A voice coming from down the hall made him pause. He held the bucket close to his stomach as he peered down the corridor, wondering who would be in this wing of the palace at this time of day. Other servants, perhaps, but everyone was incredibly busy at the moment. Who would have time for a nice, casual stroll?

Out of nowhere, a dog came bolting around the corner. Lance yelped as it barrelled right into his legs, sending him toppling backwards. The dirty water in the bucket sloshed but he kept a tight grip on it, and only a few small handfuls of water spilled out onto his apron. 

“Whose damn dog…?” He started, only to cut himself off. He recognised this dog. Everyone in the entire kingdom would recognise this specific dog. It was of medium size with scruffy fur the colour of sand and the happiest pair of puppy dog eyes ever seen on an animal. There wasn’t a single person in the entire kingdom who didn’t know the story of this day – a weak stray taken in by the kind-hearted prince and lovingly nursed back to health by his very own hands. 

And if the Prince’s prized dog was here…

“Oh no!”

… then the Prince was surely close-by.

“I’m so sorry, did my dog knock you over?” The Prince fretted, as he rushed to Lance’s side, completely oblivious to Lance’s embarrassment. “Did you knock this man down, boy? I told you to stop running through the corridors!”

The dog woofed quietly, his tongue lolling out. No dog had ever looked as proud of himself as that one did. 

Prince Shiro offered Lance a hand. “I’m terribly sorry…?”

“Lance,” Lance spluttered, clutching the bucket tighter. His voice was embarrassingly croaky. 

Prince Shiro gave him a charmingly handsome smile, and urged Lance to take his hand. “I’m terribly sorry, Lance. My dog didn’t ruin your work, did he?”

After a moment, Lance took the Prince’s hand and allowed himself to be helped up. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“But your clothes…” Prince Shiro’s eyes fell to Lance’s apron, and he frowned. “You must let me make it up to you. I’ll be sure to have them replaced while these are cleaned.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh a little, charmed by his Prince’s consideration. “Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry about it, my Prince,” he said. “I normally wash the clothes anyway, I can do it.”

A flustered look came to the Prince’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to- I’m not even sure. I think it’s best if I stop apologising now.”

Lance laughed again, lifting a hand to hide his mouth. “No, no, it’s alright. I wasn’t aware that anyone would be using these corridors, my Prince. I’m sorry for being in the way.”

“Not at all!” The Prince exclaimed. He was looking incredibly amused now. “It’s probably for the best if we both stop apologising, Lance. But I really must insist you let me make it up to you somehow.”

A puzzled look crossed Lance’s face. His heart was racing a mile a minute. Lance couldn’t help but think that the Prince was even more handsome up close. He’d seen the Prince before when he’d been working, but of course they’d never spoken, never been near one another. 

“Oh, I know,” the Prince suddenly said, his eyes brightening. He gave Lance a cheerful grin, his cheeks stained with red as he put his hands on Lance’s shoulders. “You have to come to the ball in two weeks.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “I– I can’t do that, I’m just a servant,” he said plainly. “I don’t have anything other than my uniform.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll arrange everything,” Prince Shiro said. “You have to come and dance with me, and we’ll have dinner. That is, if you want to?”

Oh, Lance very much wanted to. Who could possibly say no to Prince Shiro? To those adoring brown eyes? “Of course, but…”

“No complaints, then.” The Prince put a hand under Lance’s chin, urging it and his gaze upwards, where he captured Lance’s eyes. “I’ll be in charge of everything, don’t worry. You’ll be my honoured guest.” A teasing, crooked grin came to his face. “And won’t everyone be so jealous when I show up with someone as pretty as you.”

Lance reddened.

The Prince patted his shoulders, content to have riled Lance up. He looked so excited that Lance couldn’t help but be, too.

“Are you sure it’s allowed?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” Prince Shiro said. “Don’t worry, Lance. My parents are always encouraging me to find someone I like enough to bring to these occasions, anyway. Won’t you come with me?”

Lance tried to squash a grin. “Alright…”

“Perfect.” The Prince finally dropped his chin and took a step back, gesturing for his dog to follow. “Don’t worry, Lance. It’ll be enjoyable, I promise. I find myself feeling very impatient, now.” Prince Shiro gave him a sweet little smile, and waved. “I shall see you soon, I hope!”

Lance sure as hell hoped, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro just wants those pretty blue eyes all to himself ❤️


	9. Keith/Lance - Clingy

Keith wasn’t much of a fan of public displays of affection. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like any affection at all – he loved holding his omega’s hand, and was more than willing to let Lance paw at him when his omega was feeling particularly touchy-feely. Lance liked to display his mating mark proudly, and although Keith hadn’t liked that at first, he’d gotten used to it, and no longer minded. He was getting more and more used to touch, was allowing himself to want it. 

His omega really helped with that.

Sometimes, however, he got a little… out of control. Well, it was more like he fell prey to his instincts a little. It mostly happened around his rut when his hormones went a bit wild, and every time he caught a hint of Lance’s irresistible scent he felt an uncontrollable need to get his hands on him. Even if they were in public. Because even if he didn’t like public displays of affection, that aversion went away while they were by themselves, and it seemed his rut-addled mind was more than willing to push aside said aversions, too.

It wasn’t like he meant to get a little controlling. He became jealous of Lance’s affections and wanted them all to himself. If he saw Lance talking to someone, even if it was just one of his friends, he became broody and irritable. He wanted Lance to look at him, to smell like him. Lance would let Keith scent him in the morning – and no matter how close he was to his rut, he knew never to go overboard – but his scent would fade and that put him on edge. 

For the most part, Lance just seemed amused by his pouty behaviour. He’d let Keith clutch at him as much as he wanted – in fact, Lance _liked_ it when Keith became clingy. He always wanted more from Keith, and he soaked in the attention, even if Keith was too busy brooding to enjoy the sight of his happy mate. 

Since Keith was still up to going out (his rut was still about a week away), he and Lance had decided to meet up with their friends at a local café. It was a quiet little place, and was never crowded, despite their ridiculously good coffee and decent prices. Lance really liked the pastries they had there, and Keith usually liked whatever Lance liked, so it was a place that they regularly visited. It was close to their apartment too, which was a nice bonus.

When they arrived, Keith silently insisted they sit on the same side of the booth by subtly tugging at Lance’s jacket. He kept his arm around Lance’s waist as they waited for their friends to arrive, and was more than content to listen to Lance chatter as he glanced around the café. Some unmated alpha on the street had leered at Lance and Keith still hadn’t settled. He was just glad all he’d done was bare his teeth and growl, despite Lance not needing Keith to protect him from catcallers. But Lance’s scent was starting to ripen, starting to smell much sweeter – reacting to Keith’s rut scent. It made pigheaded alphas think Lance owed them something if they happened to catch a whiff of him.

And as much as Keith respected Lance as his own person, Lance was also his mate, and Keith didn’t want anyone treating him like that. Especially when he was _right there._

Eventually the others – Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, Allura, and Matt – arrived. They were more than used to Keith’s changing moods and didn’t bat an eye when they found him clutching at Lance, but it did seem to amuse them, too. Keith just huffed and shoved his face against Lance’s neck, wondering if he could surreptitiously leave his scent on Lance’s skin without anyone noticing.

Probably not.

But he still wondered.

Their little trip to the café was pleasant, as much as it could be. Keith didn’t do much talking; he wasn’t in the mood. He was happy to listen though, and grunted when his input was needed. At some point he snuck his hands under the hem of Lance’s shirt – nothing bad, but just so he could feel Lance’s skin, let the warmth of his mate keep him grounded. That was something Lance used to do for him a lot, when he’d get overwhelmed or angry or wake up from a bad dream. Skin-to-skin contact helped. 

Of course, none of their friends could resist teasing him at least just a little bit. It was because he was never usually like this, and they knew he wouldn’t leave Lance’s side to go after them. 

“Keith’s turned into an octopus,” Hunk whispered to Pidge, when he caught sight of where Keith’s hands had wandered. “It’s like he’s trying to eat Lance, Pidge.”

Pidge snorted. “He always gets like this. And look, Lance doesn’t mind at all. He likes it.”

“Eat him!’ Hunk stressed.

Eating Lance did sound like a tempting idea. Keith opened his mouth and pressed his teeth against Lance’s neck, chuckling when Lance let out a surprised yelp. Lance’s hands batted at him so he kissed Lance’s neck in apology. He still felt satisfied, though.

“Don’t give him ideas,” Lance complained, though he wasn’t upset.

Hunk look scandalised. It was mostly exaggeration, Keith was sure, but it did little to ease his smugness. He rumbled, pleased, as he nuzzled Lance’s neck, breathing in his mate’s addicting scent. He was entirely convinced that no one could ever smell as good as Lance did. 

His friends laughed at his behaviour, but he didn’t mind. He was being affectionate, so what? Lance liked it, Keith could tell. He smelt happy and he hadn’t stopped smiling all day, knowing that Keith was going to be clingy. Keith loved it when Lance was like this, when he was restless with giddy, flirty smiles and flushed cheeks. 

He loved his mate a lot, and that was that.


	10. Lance/Lotor - Rescue

Lance thought he had a nice appreciation for the more beautiful things in life. Birds with iridescent feathers, orange-hued sunrises, the sweet way his father looked at his mother, when rain dripped off lush green leaves...

Alphas with long, silky hair.

Especially that last one.

And alright, so maybe he was biased. He’d spotted one alpha by his hair and had been obsessed ever since. To be fair, the alpha had really nice, really luscious hair. The type of hair Lance only ever saw in ads for high-quality, luxury hair conditioner. The type of hair Lance fawned over on his Instagram feed. 

He wanted hair that pretty. And more than that, he wanted the alpha attached to said hair.

It wasn’t just because the alpha had pretty hair, though. Lotor turned out to be Allura’s cousin, which in itself was weird, but Allura was Lance’s friend and she and her cousin had a tense, strange relationship. Regardless of whatever past they had – or more accurately, whatever past their parents, who were acquaintances, had – Lotor was endlessly polite and incredibly charming. He didn’t flaunt his wealth or intelligence, nor his looks or his attractive alpha scent. He treated everyone equally, valued Allura’s opinions, and was more than ready to listen to anyone who spoke up.

God, Lance liked him a lot. He was courteous and fair, and confident in his opinions. His scent appealed to Lance, and he was attractive. Lance had fallen hard for him, despite Allura’s incredulous looks. Could she really blame him? He’d been attracted to her, too. Maybe that made it weird for her, now that he was thinking about it.

Usually, he was great at flirting. Lance never had trouble attracting the eyes of people he liked, even if he always flailed when it actually came to getting a partner. As much as he liked Lotor, he had no idea what to do. They’d spoken, since they both currently worked for Allura’s company, and Lotor always dazed Lance with pretty smiles. It was hard for Lance to keep his scent under control when Lotor was around. He just couldn’t help himself.

It seemed that the universe was against him. Allura had been making subtle, teasing comments to embarrass him – “Lotor, why don’t you take Lance on that coffee run, hmm?” – and was more than willing to hint at things that Lance really didn’t want her hinting at. Their friends had picked up the same habit too, which horrified Lance. The amount of times he’d been left alone with Lotor in an elevator…

Thankfully, Lotor seemed none the wiser. 

At least, Lance hoped not.

He thought he was doing okay at hiding his ridiculous crush. Sure, he tripped over his words and sometimes his feet when Lotor unexpectedly showed up, and sure, he turned bright red when Lotor gave him a friendly compliment or praised his work. But that was totally a work-friend type reaction, wasn’t it? Totally. Just friends. Lance could live with that. 

Probably.

Of course, because the universe was completely against him, he was having an awful day. Allura had sent him out to get coffee, which had gone alright until the sky decided that now was the perfect time to crack open its dark storm clouds. And where was Lance’s umbrella? Back at the office, obviously.

For the most part, he could hide under awnings to avoid the rain. He scurried from building to building like a nervous cat, shielding his tray of coffees from the rain as much as he could. The streets were crowded with umbrellas and busy people rushing back and forth. He was doing his best not to spill the drinks but when he was getting jostled around and rained on, it was really difficult to do anything well.

That’s why he was sure the universe had something out for him when some pigheaded alpha ran into him. The coffee went flying, he went sprawling, and his pants immediately soaked right through to his skin. He’d landed in a puddle but really, what else did he expect?

“Watch where you’re going, omega bitch!” The alpha snarled. 

Lance flinched, surprised. He knew there were people out there who were still discriminatory towards omegas, but he’d never been harassed because of his status. It made something in him feel like it had come undone. “You’re the one that bumped into me!” He spluttered, outraged. 

The alpha bared his teeth, looking both furious and glad that Lance had fought back. He reached down and grabbed Lance by the shirt, hauling him up. “Want to say that again, knot whore?”

Lance yelped, jerking back. The alpha’s scent was ramping up, pumped full of hormones that were designed to make omegas – and others, for that matter – submit. 

“See? Slutty thing can’t even fight back,” the alpha sneered. “Not so tough now are you, omega?”

“Is something the matter here?” A cool voice asked.

Lance’s skin prickled as Lotor’s angered scent washed over him. The rain falling on his face disappeared as an umbrella perched over his head. Lotor pressed against his back, reaching over his shoulder to wrap his fingers around the alpha’s wrist. There must have been something on his face, something terrifying, because the alpha paled and took a step back. Lotor was taller and even with his slender waist, he cut an imposing figure. 

A sinking feeling coiled in Lance’s stomach. God, Lotor was seeing him at his worst. Drenched, covered in dirty side-walk water and coffee. Rumpled. Reeking of fear, probably. He’d never felt so pitiful.

“Are you alright, Lance?” Lotor asked, when the alpha had been chased off. Lotor curled an arm low around Lance’s waist, guiding him under the nearest awning. The umbrella never left Lance, even though holding it tilted so far was definitely leaving Lotor with a wet back.

“F-fine,” he muttered. 

Lotor frowned. He lowered his head and sniffed at Lance’s hair, scenting him. “You smell frightened,” he murmured, before startling. “I apologise.”

For a moment, Lance wasn’t sure what Lotor was apologising for, but then he realised – Lotor was apologising for scenting him. Always so polite. “It’s fine,” he said, because he really didn’t mind Lotor doing that. He loved it, actually. He forced a weak smile to his face. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

Lotor blinked, and gave Lance a small smile. “Nonsense.” His fingers tightened their grip on Lance’s waist. “Allura was concerned that you hadn’t returned, and she asked me to come check on you.”

Lance muffled a groan. Allura was such a meddler. “I dropped the coffee,” he said.

“I’m sure Allura won’t mind, considering what has transpired,” Lotor said. He straightened, looking all primp and proper again. “She will surely be upset.”

“There’s no need to tell her!” Lance fretted. “I can just get more coffee.”

Lotor shook his head. “No, no. I’m afraid we must tell her.” At Lance’s horrified expression, Lotor’s expression softened. “Well, if you really don’t wish for me to mention it… perhaps I shall just accompany you on your coffee runs, then? If you’re agreeable, that is.”

It took a moment for Lotor’s words to compute properly. Lance flushed, his ears going red. “S-sounds good.”

Lotor’s smile was practically blinding. “Wonderful. I do rather enjoy your company, Lance. I hope I’m not pressing on you.”

“Of course not!” Lance exclaimed, before he could curb his enthusiasm. Lotor’s scent was definitely messing with his mind. “I- I mean… that’s fine. You’re fine.” He flushed again. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

A pleasant laugh escaped Lotor, one that made his chest rumble just the slightest bit. “Oh, you delightful creature. I really hope you don’t think this too forward of me, but I’ve grown rather fond of you. I really do enjoy your company Lance, that’s no understatement.”

“Same,” Lance said lamely, because he was definitely not functioning right anymore. His day suddenly didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Lotor gave him another pleased laugh, though quieter this time. “Then perhaps you’ll let me court you? But only if you wish.”

A thrill went up Lance’s spine. He could hardly believe that Lotor had taken an interest in him. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“That’d be nice,” Lance managed to force out, face burning. He couldn’t stop smiling, and all but melted at the gooey look in Lotor’s pale eyes. “Yes.”

Lotor smiled again, and squeezed his waist. “Perfect.”


	11. Keith/Lance - Care

Shrugging into his jacket, Keith rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. The lower level of the house was absolutely freezing, since he and Lance hadn’t had a chance to fix up the broken laundry door, which led to the backyard. Even when the internal door was shut, the cold air flooding the exposed laundry seeped under the door, and no matter how hard they tried to keep the house warm, it was impossible. 

He wasn’t intending to stay out in the cold for long, not in this weather. The ground was covered in frost and when he stomped across the front yard, frozen grass crunched under his feet. A frustrated groan left him when he found the old, rusted mailbox frozen shut, their mail jammed inside. He had to wrestle with it to get it open, cursing the whole time. Bills were not worth this much effort.

Back inside, he dumped the cold mail on the bench and started the slow process of getting the fire going. It had charred down to fading embers overnight, partly in thanks to the cold hair escaping in from the laundry. That door was on the top of his and Lance’s to-fix list. 

Keith sighed to himself when the fire was finally starting to look a little healthier. He rubbed his hands together again, gloves and all, wishing that the house was heat up quicker. He didn’t normally have to do all this on his own – not the mail, not the fire, and certainly not breakfast, which was up next. He wasn’t much of a cook and didn’t know the first thing about what foods a sick person could eat, but it wasn’t like he could just ask Lance, the aforementioned sick person.

For as long as Keith had known him, Lance had never really gotten sick. Little sniffles here, a headache there, sure. But sick? Not really. He had a great immune system and took vitamins and religiously cleaned anything that could foster harmful germs. He was a healthy person, and made put much more effort into being healthy than Keith did, who somehow lucked out in that department, never really getting sick either. 

But since this cold weather had hit, Lance had been feeling down. The stress of moving into this house and fixing up what needed to be fixed had probably gotten to him, and the long nights certainly didn’t help. He’d woken up the previous morning with a massive headache, and by evening he was a sneezing, sniffling mess of a person. His fever was up and he was constantly nauseous, two things Keith knew weren’t a good sign. He’d taken Lance to the doctor, who had assured them it was just a particularly nasty bug that was going around. That still didn’t make Lance feel better, though. He was completely miserable and Keith hated seeing him like that.

The house was a lot quieter without Lance filling it.

Still, he had to carry on. Breakfast was up next.

Caring for Lance in this way brought him a secret little thrill. Of course he loved providing for his husband, and he liked knowing he was useful. He felt a strange sort of pride in being able to take care of the house while Lance was sick, and he really hoped Lance could relax knowing everything would be accounted for. 

Lance had taught him how to make a really nice egg omelette with cheese, mushrooms and fresh spinach. He made that for himself, and also sliced up some easy-to-digest fruits, ones he thought might help Lance keep hydrated like watermelon and the rest of the grapes they had.

When he went upstairs, glad to find the house warmer, Lance was stirring. The scent of food roused him and he blinked several times, offering Keith a weak good morning. 

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked, as he helped Lance drink some water and stomach some food. He sent the tray of breakfast on the bedside table for and took a seat on the bed, pressing a hand to Lance’s forehead. He didn’t feel as warm as he had the previous day, which was good.

“Much better,” Lance croaked around a yawn. “My head doesn’t hurt as bad.”

Keith was relieved to hear it. He spent a while drawing patterns on the inside of Lance’s palm, willing him to sleep again. Lance fought it, like he always did, feeling guilty that he was lounging around in bed. But Keith insisted there was nothing to be sorry for – Lance would have done the same thing for him, would have taken care of him just as attentively. He wanted Lance to get all the rest he needed.

That’s what had been in their vows, after all – in sickness and in health.


	12. Keith/Lance - Nymph

Lance was nervous. He had no reason to be nervous, he told himself, but that did nothing to quell the storm currently ravaging his stomach. His wings fluttered against his back, leaving a trial of glittering blue dust behind him that dissipated almost as fast as it appeared. Allura had assured him that everything would be fine, and she was hardly ever wrong, but he’d never been so far away from water before.

To be fair, he was going into the fire nymph territory, and water wasn’t as essential to their lives as it was to the water nymphs – Lance’s people. It wasn’t like their territory was completely devoid of water; they were close to a relatively large spring, and creeks threaded through the surrounding forest. 

Of course, it wasn’t a forest like the ones Lance was used to. The trees weren’t constantly wet, and the sky hardly ever shed rain. Leaves weren’t vibrant and green, didn’t hum with vitality or the thrum of water flowing through their veins. The forests near water nymph territories were rainy and damp places, where colourful birds and countless streams running thick with fish could be found.

Forests adjacent to fire nymph territories were hot and dry, the tree bark coloured black. When it peeled away, it revealed bright orange bark underneath – it blackened over time when exposed to air. It almost looked like fire. Leaves in their territories were always curled inwards, flinching away from the heat. Fire nymphs loved to live by volcanoes or desserts, and this territory was built on old volcanic grounds. Digging into the rock bed past the reach of tree roots would reveal black stone – the leftover volcanic magma from eruptions centuries ago. Fire nymphs thrived where it heated the land.

Lance tried to calm down as he and his personal guard made their way through the fire nymph’s territory. As one of the strongest nymphs in his homeland, he’d been sent to fill a request from the fire nymphs. Their royals had contacted his, and considering he was the Prince, it was only fitting that he be sent. Not only to fulfil their request, but to foster political relations, too. 

It wasn’t like the task was going to be difficult. Since fire nymphs had no control over water and depended entirely on what the land naturally produced to supply their territory, it wasn’t uncommon for them to have to raise wells and other water-gathering ports. This was much better done by a water nymph, hence Lance’s arrival. He could sense where water ran, even if it was so deep that he’d have to coax it through volcanic rock to get it above ground. He was confident in his abilities. 

Even if he was a nervous wreck.

Which he totally wasn’t.

Except he’d never met fire nymphs before, and he knew that they were famous for having fiery tempers. As much as water seemingly had an advantage of fire, there was a clear difference in power here: no close source of water. Sure, Lance could produce a lot of it entirely from his own magic, but that wasn’t a bottomless source, not like the earth itself was. 

But, for the most part, the fire nymphs were accommodating. Lance had arrived with a troupe of twelve guards, thirteen including the royal advisor, Coran. They were escorted to the palace, where the interior temperature had been lowered for their benefit. In the cool air, Lance started to relax. 

That feeling didn’t last long.

Alright, so Lance had heard about more than just the fiery tempers of the fire nymphs. As a Prince, he insisted it was his duty to know about the other royals, too. He was best friends with the earth nymph Prince, Hunk, as well as the younger royal of the nature nymphs, Pidge. He’d even once met the wind nymph Prince, Shiro, who was close with Lance’s older sister, Princess Allura. But he’d never once met the fire Prince, despite attending meetings that demanded them all to be present. Fire territories were notorious for their instability, especially ones built upon volcanic areas: the stronger nymphs constantly patrolled the territory fixing flaming eruptions where a build-up of heat started scorching fires. 

It had just been one of those things, never meeting the fire Prince.

Until now.

And boy was he attractive. Lance would even dare to call him hot, but that felt like overkill. 

Prince Keith had eyes that felt like they were on fire – that was the first thing Lance noticed. His face was handsome and surprisingly youthful, only made mature by the set of his mouth and the way his thick brows sat furrowed above those sharp, expressive eyes of his. Strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, some parts almost reaching his shoulders. Perhaps a bit long, Lance thought, but definitely enough to sink his fingers into.

Which wasn’t what he was meant to be thinking about, but lo and behold, there he was.

And his wings… well, they were a work of art on their own. Red, glinting orange in the right light – they looked like they were alight. Lance adored them instantly. 

Keith’s advisor, a tall man named Kolivan, introduced them. On behalf of the water nymphs, Coran extended the same courtesy. Lance’s eyes were fixed on Keith, taking him in. There was something about him, something that struck Lance as interesting, that made his competitive side perk up. He wasn’t sure what it was, but when Keith felt his gaze and turned to meet his eyes, Lance found himself flushing, embarrassed. He glanced away and refused to meet Keith’s eyes again, even though he could feel the Prince’s gaze.

Kolivan was keen to get on with business, and so Lance and his troupe were escorted to the site where the fire nymphs needed a well raised. It was outside of the palace grounds and just out of the residential district, where the trees were too thick for houses to comfortably be built.

“The presence of water here is very weak,” Lance admitted, when he was asked by Kolivan about the suitability of the area. He had his palm outstretched, trying to sense where water flowed the strongest. 

“Moving a well further from the city is inconvenient,” Kolivan said. “But what needs to be done, needs to be done.”

Lance winced a little. Kolivan was intimidating, and Lance didn’t like the way he was being spoken down to. He drew his hand back to his side and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. All was silent for a moment. He heard the fire nymphs shifting, and could sense Coran holding up a hand, keeping them quiet for a moment longer while Lance concentrated.

He’d always had a strong relationship to water, stronger than most. His powers were weaker than Allura’s, but his affinity for the water was much, much stronger. Had he had any inclination to make a firmer political stance – perhaps even intend to become King, challenging her position as Queen – then he would have had a good chance at claiming the throne. But he knew Allura was more suited to it, and that his place was with the water, not the people.

The water spoke to him. He would do his best to answer its calls.

“Something is disrupting the natural flow of water from the spring,” he finally said, when he opened his eyes again. He pointed back to the direction they’d initially come from, where they’d passed the spring. “It’s leeching water in almost every direction, some partially above ground, and this location would be perfect for a well…”

“But?” The Prince asked, catching Lance’s gaze. His eyes were so intense that Lance struggled to answer him.

“But it’s being disrupted,” he said. “Tapped. Above ground.”

The fire nymphs shared a look that Lance didn’t like. Evidently, his guards didn’t like it either; they tensed, inching closer. 

“What is it?” Lance demanded, his eyes moving from Keith to Kolivan and back. “If I could raise a well here, I would, you know that. I’m not trying to insult your people. But it’s not possible unless the flow is uninhibited.”

“We mean you no offense, Prince Lance,” Kolivan said. “But our city is running low on water, and it’s a time-sensitive issue.”

Lance’s brows furrowed. He wondered what Allura would say, if she were here now. Relations between the fire and water territories had always been tense, and he desperately wanted to improve them. But raising a well here? Almost impossible. It was like trying to make an entire outfit out of one spool of thread. 

“Perhaps…” He paused, his mind racing. “Perhaps I could raise a temporary well in a different location. It might not be as convenient, or as stable, but it would do until this site is made ready.”

Before Kolivan could speak, Keith did. “That would be very preferable, if at all possible,” he said. “I know a place that might work.”

Lance was surprised by the Prince’s fast acceptance, but he didn’t dare argue it. He had to stride a little faster than normal to keep up with Keith’s strong steps, but he found himself doing so without complaining. Walking by the Prince filled him with a sense of excitement, even more so because it was clear that Keith did not want Kolivan hovering beside him, as he had done before.

“What you did before,” Keith started, “What was it, exactly? When your eyes were closed.”

“I was trying to hear the water,” Lance said. His surprise had yet to fade. He hadn’t expected a fire nymph to be interested in the ways of water nymphs, let alone the prince. “I can sense it beneath the bed rock, but it’s weak. Its path is emptier than it should be.”

Keith hummed, taking in the information. “Then you have a strong connection with the water?”

“I must have, to be here.”

Keith accepted that. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, halting in his steps. He turned his head to the wind, eyes narrowing. A strange sense of dread crept up Lance’s spine.

“Prince Keith?” He asked.

Out of nowhere, a ball of fire rocketed out from between the trees. Lance cried out as heat seared his skin – Keith grabbed him by the waist, throwing them both to the ground to avoid the worst of the blast. Anger radiated off of Keith like heat of a fire, so much so that it began to hurt Lance’s skin where they were connected. 

“Prince!” 

Cool hands pulled him up – Coran. Water burst out of the crystal jar at Coran’s hips, collecting around his palms. It began to glow a soft, ephemeral blue as it healed Lance’s burns, chasing the tingling pain away in seconds. When Lance lifted his head, he found six of his guard surrounding them, tridents made of solid water poised in their hands. The other half had disappeared into the forest with Keith, Kolivan, and their own guards. But then Keith and two of his guard reappeared, shards of flame still flickering off their skin.

“Back to the palace,” Keith commanded. He passed right through the water nymphs as if he hadn’t even seen them, his eyes fixed on Lance. When he grabbed Lance by the hand, his touch didn’t burn, though a whip of flames was still sparking from his free palm. He was controlling himself, Lance realised – something that he thought didn’t come easy to the Prince. 

“What was that?” Coran demanded. He still held Lance’s free hand between his own as they ran through the forest, healing the last of his burns. 

“Rebels,” Keith said, his face twisted into a scowl. “They’re likely the ones tapping the water supply.”

“I didn’t know there was unrest in the fire territory,” Lance said, shocked.

“It’s a private matter. The guards have been able to handle it, but I guess the arrival of water nymphs have spurred them on.”

Lance was prepared to be indignant at that, but the tender way the Prince was holding his hand stopped him. He could tell the Prince was worried – not about the reputation of his territory, or his dignity, but about the people he was hosting, about Lance. His words made sense, too. Rebel factions wouldn’t know why water nymphs were suddenly arriving in the city, and considering water’s natural advantage over fire, it wasn’t crazy to think that they could be threatened by the presence of royal water guards. 

“I didn’t intend for you to be harmed,” Keith murmured, flicking his gaze towards Lance’s other hand, still clasped in Coran’s.

“It’s nothing,” Lance said, his stomach lurching at the thought of Keith being upset on his behalf. “Hardly a scratch.”

Keith didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t argue. He kept Lance close as they made their way back towards the city, their combined eight guards and one Coran in tow. They didn’t speak again, but Lance felt no need to.

Somehow Lance thought that this seemingly simple trip to the fire nymph’s territory wasn’t going to be so simple after all. Especially not if the Prince kept looking at him the way he did.


	13. Keith/Lance - Patron

Years ago, more than five centuries if the stories were to be believed, the patron god of water was sealed away in a crystal prison that sunk to the bottom of the ocean. It was said that the ocean was so distraught over the loss of its god that the power of its anguish created the tides and currents that still, to this day, ravaged the sea. Monsters like the legendary charybdis, the kraken, the ravenous leviathans – their power grew with the agony of the sea, and in the chaos that followed, great cities like Atlantis and lands like Lemuria were swallowed whole, consume by the grief-stricken water. 

Keith had been assigned a quest from the gods to recover the lost water patron. This was an important quest, one he couldn’t fail. The sea monsters were becoming too hungry, too violent. Less and less heroes were returning from their journeys across the sea. There had been no new water bearers born since the god was lost, and the world was starting to suffer from it. 

In the last hundred years or so, other seafaring heroes and heroes on quests had managed to piece together a map with enough fragments to be of use. The location of the water patron was almost certain – it was Keith’s job to find and free him. Bring him back to the city of gods, if possible. No one knew who had sealed the water god away, who had betrayed him – only another god of equal or more power could have done it, and a god with the force of the ocean behind him was not an easy target.

With his gifts from the god – a necklace that allowed him to breathe underwater, gloves that let him produce flames, and the map – Keith set out to find the water patron. He had to cross the sea, which was no easy feat, but the knife he’d received from his mother burned hot enough to carve through any substance, even scaly sea beasts bigger than skyscrapers. 

Eventually he came across the place where the map claimed the imprisoned god to be. He’d sailed almost to the other side of the world, and if he were being honest, he was getting sick of the open ocean. 

But the water god was worth some discomfort. Countless had given their lives trying to find him, and Keith was determined to make their sacrifices worth it. The water here was relatively shallow – a bridge of land from long ago lay beneath his boat, filled with deep crevices and a labyrinth of coral crags. He was lucky he’d been given gifts or else he’d never be able to dive down deep enough, let alone fight off the creatures obsessively guarding their beloved patron.

Like usual, the water seemed to shudder around him when he began his descent. He had no affinity for it, and had never met its god, never made sacrifices in the name of the ocean. The only reason the water accepted him was because it could sense his intentions, and it encouraged them – it wanted its god back as much as the rest of them did, even if it wasn’t sentient.

The beasts of the ocean didn’t share the same feelings.

Keith didn’t know how much time passed before he finally reached the chasm floor. He passed thrashing eels the size rhinos and a herd of anxious hippocampus, their hooves flashing as they galloped past. There were entire schools of fish flashing in between the rocks and crabs that pinched at his clothes when he swam past, but other than those goliath eels, nothing terribly violent came his way.

Maybe the bigger monsters knew that there was no way to get past the crystal prison encasing their god. That’s why they didn’t guard him – no one could free him, not even them.

But Keith was going to.

He found the crystal prison between two large outcroppings of rock. It glowed an eerie blue, and was so fractured that for a moment it looked like the crystal was still growing; frost glaciers spearing up out of a frozen wasteland. Keith pressed his hand against the jagged crystals, trying to peer through them, but even though they were transparent they’d grown so thick that they only reflected their own surfaces. It was like a hall of mirrors, of never ending reflections. 

Inside was the water god. Sleeping and captive, but alive. Keith could sense it. 

He raised his knife and brought it down hard against the crystal. It made a shattering noise upon impact. Shards of crystal dispersed in a wave of bubbles. Keith felt the water tremble – no one had been able to chip at the prison in centuries. He glanced up, and saw fish gathering, almost blocking out the light from the distant surface. He brought down his knife again, pushing harder, until the edge lodged itself deep in the crystal. 

Gripping the hilt with both hands, he twisted it as hard as he could. He had to brace his feet against the crystal, and the effort caused him to groan. For a moment he thought nothing would happen.

And then the entire crystal shattered.

It was like the whole ocean took in a shuddering breath. Waves of energy pulsed out like a heartbeat, blowing back his hair and almost sending him flying back to the surface. Warmth thrummed through him, making every nerve in his body light up. 

A soft, pained cry reached his ears. Keith jolted, pushing through the dissolving chunks of crystal to reach the hidden god inside.

What he found was not what he expected. The god was young, his face painfully youthful. His eyes were so blue that Keith was sure it was an entirely a new colour just in itself. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, not in all of his travels, all of his research. It was like someone had plucked pieces of the sky and the ocean alike to make the prettiest blue of all, just to give them to the water god. With his smooth, dark skin, his soft brown hair, his thick eyelashes and his little pointed nose, his beauty was utterly unrivalled. 

But he was in pain. Short, childish pants left his mouth, caught somewhere in his throat before they could come to fruition. His eyes were wide and watery, his tears remaining whole even though they were underwater. The water god trembled like someone was shaking him, confused and disorientated. 

Keith knew he had to get him above water. He grabbed the water god under his arms, holding him close as he propelled himself upwards. No creature blocked his path. 

They broke through the churning surface with a splash. Keith hauled the god towards his boat, trying to keep them both from sinking. The god’s beautiful scaled tail was shifting to legs and back like he had no control over his powers. He probably didn’t.

“You’re okay,” Keith said, groaning as he pulled both himself and the god up on deck. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

“Who are you?” The god croaked. His blue eyes were fixed on Keith, grateful and scared at the same time. “Where am I?”

Keith laid him gently against the deck and helped him sit. “I’m Keith,” he said. “The Gods sent me. You’ve been trapped in crystals for centuries.”

The god’s eyes widened, his gaze jerking towards the sea. It was like he suddenly realised what had happened to his cherished domain, and he whimpered. The ocean hadn’t always been so full of monsters.

When the god began to weep, Keith couldn’t help but gather him close again. It surprised him, his desires to comfort this god, this boy, who was centuries older than him but looked like he’d lived not even a day longer. He’d never liked physical affection, never felt the need for another’s company. 

This god was different. Something about him stirred a strange, protective feeling in Keith.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, as he cradled the back of the god’s head. He knew that he’d do anything to keep his promise to the god, and the god could probably sense it; his sniffling slowed, and he turned his eyes up to Keith with a look of relieved adoration. Maybe he sensed there was something different about Keith, too, just in the same way Keith did about him. “I promise.”


	14. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Mark

Lance blew a breath over his cup of hot tea. He used one hand to adjust his sweater, the blue one with the wide neckline and long sleeves. It was one of the only things he owned that kept the back of his neck fully exposed, if only because it was a size too large for him. 

For the time being, he was alone in the house. He had the kitchen to himself too. Keith was still asleep, completely out cold, just the same as Shiro. Anyone would think that they were the ones who’d just gone through a heat, but no. Lance had, and even if he was tired, he didn’t need to sleep anymore. At least not for a little while longer.

The mating bites on his neck hurt. The first thing he’d done after showering was paw at them in the mirror, gauging their size and shape. He remembered receiving them, even if the rest of his memories of the last few days were hazy. He’d asked his mates to bite him while he was still mostly lucid, and they’d done just so. 

Lance could tell the bite in the crook of his neck, where his neck met his shoulder, belonged to Keith. It was laid down more aggressively, sunken in just a little deeper. The ring of teeth marks was smaller, compared to the other one. It was healing slower, too. 

Shiro’s mark was on the back of his neck, a more territorial claim. His bite mark was wider, and more carefully pressed into Lance’s skin, something that suggested he’d had more control over himself when he’d done it. Keith was usually rougher anyway, despite Shiro’s natural dominance. The mark Shiro had given him was healing faster – Shiro had laved it with attention after he’d pulled his teeth free, licking and kissing the mark until some of its sting had gone. 

Absentmindedly, he traced his fingers over the scars. A hiss left him when they tingled with a small amount of pain. It was a good pain. It still hadn’t really hit him yet, that he was a mated omega now. A big part of him felt no different to how he’d felt before. He still loved his mates, he still felt like himself, and there hadn’t been some big, profound change in his outlook on life. 

But a different part of him did feel changed. If he focused hard enough, and if he pressed his fingers to his marks, then he could sense his mates. It wasn’t like he could read their thoughts, but they had become a stronger presence in the back of his mind, and he could feel their emotions, just small bits and pieces. If either of his mates woke up, he was sure he would sense it. He knew that after some time, he wouldn’t need to stimulate his marks to feel his mates. The bond was still fresh for now, and would take some time getting used to.

When he’d finished his tea, he washed up his cup and wandered back to bed. Expectedly, both of his mates were still fast asleep. Neither one had rolled into the space Lance had vacated between them, like they were waiting for him to come back. He took a moment to admire them – Keith sprawled out, his hair sticking up in every direction, one leg thrown over where he expected Lance to be; and Shiro laying on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other outstretched towards Keith, his face a perfect picture of sleepy peace. 

Lance almost didn’t want to disturb them by climbing back into bed, but his need for sleep outweighed that concern. He didn’t bother changing back into his pyjamas before crawling into bed, shifting over Keith’s leg and under Shiro’s arm to find his space again. Both of his mates sniffed at the air, scenting the disturbance in their nest before settling, content to have Lance back. Neither woke. 

After a moment of restless shuffling, Lance settled too. Shiro’s arm clutched at his waist, and Keith’s leg hooked over his knees, and it was like he never left the bed in the first place. The warmth from their bodies and the heaviness of their scents sunk into him, and with a deep exhale, Lance’s mind began to drift.

He was happy to be mated to Keith and Shiro. He’d be much more energetic about it when he woke up again, he was sure, but for now he let his pride in his mates and his happiness in their bond consume his thoughts. What more could he have ever wanted, other than his mates by his side, and their happiness? He couldn’t think of anything else.

After a while, he fell asleep, content to be with them.


	15. Keith/Lance - Impression

Lance didn’t want to get married.

Or rather, he did want to get married eventually, but not like this. For one, he would’ve liked to know his husband- or wife-to-be long before the day of the wedding. He would’ve liked to choose his partner, too, not be blindly paired up with whoever his parents thought best for him. He trusted their opinion, generally, but not for something like this. Arranged marriages were notorious for being highly political, and it was very rarely that an arranged pair actually turned out to be compatible, let alone in love. 

But Lance was the first born omega in his family. He had two older siblings – both alphas, one brother and a sister – so he wasn’t first in line for the throne. As the first born omega in the family, he would be the one used as a marriage bargaining chip. That was a cruel way to put it, because if he truly hated his partner he could have successfully contested the marriage, but it was common for royal or noble families to gift away their first-born omega child. 

And thus Lance was preparing for his wedding day.

“Lance, I know you don’t want this,” his mother murmured, as she ran her fingers through his hair, styling any strands that had fallen free. “But we really appreciate your willingness to form a bond with the Prince.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, waving away her worried hands. She hadn’t originally wanted him to have an arranged marriage, but pressure from neighbouring countries left them no other choice. They needed to form stronger bonds with other kingdoms, and what better way to do it than through marriage? For his family, for his people, he would’ve done just about anything.

Even get married to a total stranger.

His mother had assured him that his soon-to-be husband was young, at least. A little older than Lance, but youthful and spritely, definitely enough to keep up with Lance’s overabundant personality. He was assured that the alpha was handsome – which, while Lance did admit to being somewhat vain, wasn’t a deal breaker. If the alpha treated him right, if the alpha was kind, if the alpha could grow to love him, and be gentle with him… that’s what he wanted. That’s what he’d want from anyone, actually, not just his betrothed.

“If he ever harms you, then do not be afraid to tell me,” his mother reminded him, her voice stern. Her fingers worried at his collar now, smoothing it flat. He was dressed in ceremonial wedding clothes – a white tunic with an open back and a high collar, slim pants, bangles around his ankles and a circlet of pearls, shells, and flowers woven into his hair. 

Their city was by the ocean, and traditional ceremonies like weddings always involved wares from the sea. Wearing shoes to a wedding was a bad omen; it was said to muffle or bar the connection they had to the land, to the sea. And considering the wedding party had to walk through the ocean to offer their gifts to the sea god – another traditional thing, with gifts usually being sandstone sculptures or strings of sea glass, something that came from the sea, was reworked by the hands of the wedded, and then returned – it was probably better that no one wore shoes.

“I’m sure he won’t,” Lance said, as he once again urged her hands away. “You wouldn’t have chosen him for me if you thought he might.”

His mother huffed, but relented. 

When it came time for Lance to leave his preparation room, his mother helped him fix his veil to his circlet. It was long and white, reaching well past the floor to pool around his feet. Floral appliques decorated its edge, and it parted at the front to reveal his face. Some brides preferred to have their faces covered by their veil, but royal and noble weddings did not favour that look. Besides, Lance liked being able to see uninhibited. He was sure he’d trip over his own feet if he couldn’t.

The wedding would be held in a building by the ocean. It was connected to the palace, but was a public building; there was a private passage for Lance to walk from one to the other. No one was allowed to see him in his wedding clothes – except his mother – until he was presented to the party. He didn’t really understand that tradition, but he wasn’t going to argue.

The walk was quiet. His mother held his hand, the veil parted around her arm. She seemed more nervous than he was, but it was only because she was giving her baby away. She’d said as much. 

When they reached the doors to the ceremonial building, Lance pulled in a steadying breath. He could hear them announcing him as the Prince, and then the doors were being pulled open.

He felt his knees go weak.

Each row of chairs were filled to capacity. On one side of the hall was his family, his people: they wore the traditional pale blue of weddings, and each wore a circlet of small shells around their brow. A row of guards with tridents (decorative, of course) lined the wall, where tall, arched doorways let in copious amounts of soft light from the morning sun. On the other side was the dark purple and grey of his husband’s people. Many wore pale markings on their face and skin. No two were the same, but each had vibrant magenta tribal markings embroidered into their clothes across the chest. Their guards mirrored Lance’s, each holding a tall spear, dressed in armour.

It was a lot to take in. Lance tried not to step back, to shrink away from the eyes watching him, but a gentle squeeze of his hand from his mother kept him firm. He breathed in again, and lifted his eyes from his feet, running them down the aisle, over the blue petals scattered along the stone floor, up to the altar. 

And there was his husband-to-be.

Prince Keith stood with his hands clasped at the small of his back, his shoulders straight. Lance had heard his name, but never seen his face. He looked younger than Lance expected, his cheeks still slightly rounded with something youthful and fierce. As Lance began the walk down the aisle with his mother, more and more of Prince Keith’s features became clear – his indigo eyes, his thick brows slowly raising from their furrowed expression, his strong jaw. He looked like he carried himself highly, like he wasn’t soft or malleable. But the closer Lance got, the gentler his expression became, his eyes widening, hands coming undone.

He probably hadn’t seen any pictures of Lance either.

Before Lance realised it, they were standing side-by-side, both of their eyes still wide with surprise and something bashful. He heard quiet laughter from his family and went red, and subtle murmurs from the guests. From the tone he guessed they approved.

“Hi,” Lance whispered. 

“Hi,” Keith whispered back. He took Lance’s hand when the officiator prompted him, and their hands were bound with a blue ribbon, keeping them locked together. Keith’s eyes tracked the movement of the ribbon as it was wound around their wrists, and then he glanced up at Lance and smiled. He turned to face the officiator with a prideful look on his face and stood tall again, his chin held high, his free hand returned to its place at the small of his back.

Lance smiled too, charmed by the alpha’s approval of him. He got the feeling his parents had chosen someone who would truly treasure him, no matter if they argued or disagreed, which he was sure they would. But he had a feeling that they’d agree on a lot, and that Keith would treat him with respect. First impressions really gave a lot of insight into how one viewed another, and Keith had made a very good impression indeed. 

He was sneaking glances at Lance like he still couldn’t believe that Lance was who he was marrying.

Lance had never felt so flattered. He received attention as the Prince, sure, but Keith’s felt… honest. He liked the way Keith looked at him, and the way Keith carefully cradled his hand, like he was something precious.

Maybe he did want this arranged marriage, after all.


	16. Lance/Lotor - Eagerly

Lotor had always prided himself on his propriety. He grew up with politeness and respect sewn into his spine, with every deviation from civility taken as a mark of poor breeding and therefore beaten out of him. He was lucky to have had an innate sense of self-preservation and a rather decent amount of intelligence and common sense as a child. By four he no longer cried, by eight he was fluent in three languages, by twelve he had a deep and comprehensive understanding of the inner workings of politics not only in his country, but in their surrounding nations.

As a sweet-faced, unpresented child, he’d been able to work his youth to his advantage. Mothers were fond of him because of his sweet smiles. Drunken politicians trusted him when he helped them to their rooms, spewing political secrets. If he widened his eyes just so, if he raised his voice to a childish pitch, if he showed off his teeth in a cute, dimply grin… it had been amazing what adults were willing to do for him. Coddle him, make exceptions for him, beg enraged parents or guards to _oh, forgive the boy, please! What an injured look he has, the poor thing._

Of course, Lotor knew what he was doing, even as a child. One didn’t grow up as the child of two absent, royal parents without learning to fend for oneself.

When he presented at the ripe, average age of thirteen – as an alpha, no less – things changed. Even as an adolescent, his alpha status and royal blood saw him become an adult in the eyes of others. 

This, however, was an advantage of its own. Sweet, toothy grins turned to sly smiles or confident twitches of the mouth. His youthful look faded into something sharp and angular as the planes of his face matured. The daughters and sons of important guests and politicians took notice of him. Omegas liked his scent, and alphas liked the way he fought, the way he handled a blade. 

The only thing people seemed to dislike or downright hate about him was his parents. To be fair, he generally agreed with that opinion. At first, they’d been fond parents, doting even. But something had corrupted them – greed, envy, poison. It was anyone’s guess. Even if their country prospered, even if their army was strong and their riches vast, even if their technology was advanced and their borders wide… it was of little consequence when their king and queen were not beloved.

But that was also of little consequence to Lotor, too. He’d made his own name for himself by rebelling, by teaching himself to be good, to do the right thing. 

And to be polite while doing it.

That was one of the many reasons he’d never taken an omega for himself. Not only was he too busy chasing off political coups and would-be assassins, but he put himself in danger all the time, and to leave a bonded omega with a mate was a terrible, painful thing. He didn’t want to endanger anyone he loved by doing risky things, or by putting them in the line of sight of greedy politicians.

Of course, he’d never particularly found an omega he was drawn to, either. That was another problem.

But it seemed like the tides were turning. 

Physically and metaphorically, for that matter. He’d been chasing down slave traders and kidnappers across the seas. It was an archaic trade, one that had no place in a modern or civilised society. There were very rarely any people found to be in possession of a slave in his country, but that didn’t stop them from sailing by. 

It had been months since a slave ship had been spotted. The trade was dying, but not completely dead. After a storm passed, the changing tides brought one past Lotor’s kingdom. It evidently thought it could sneak by, but he had keen eyes.

His soldiers boarded the ship and dealt with the guards. He followed suit, blade drawn. It was only a matter of minutes before it was over. While his soldiers cleaned up the mess and detained anyone that hadn’t been killed in the original onslaught, he descended into the hold to free the slaves. Most were young, some even unpresented. It sickened him. The scent of frightened beta and omega was thick and sour in the air.

Some recognised him. Not many spoke. He unshackled them using keys he’d stolen from the ship’s captain to free their wrists. One of his generals – a woman, beta, with a noticeably passive scent – guided them out and onto his ship, where they would be taken back to the citadel and tended to at the hospital.

It was the last passenger that made Lotor pause. He was an omega, his skin dark and mottled with bruises that could have only come from fighting back. Something about his scent, under the fear and dirtiness, called to Lotor. It made him pause, something he never did. He held the omega’s bruised wrists very gently as he unlocked the cuffs. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, before he could help himself. He knew it was bad to fawn over an omega who had clearly been mistreated, so he made himself take a step back, and instead only offered his hand to help the omega stand.

“Better now,” the omega admitted. He was shaky when he stood, but he didn’t fall. He accepted Lotor’s help without hesitance, though his actions seemed to surprise him. “Aren’t you the Prince?”

“I am,” Lotor said. He guided the omega up outside personally, waving away his general. Sometimes the people he rescued were uncomfortable around an alpha, even himself. That was one of the reasons he employed his generals, besides their loyalty and their sheer skill. “Where are you from?”

“My family lives on the border, near the sea,” the omega said. Lotor knew where that was immediately – the only sea border they shared was with Altea, with whom his relations were good. His personally, not so much his parents’.

“Worry not, we’ll get you home,” Lotor promised. He never made promises he was unsure that he could keep, but the omega’s open, thankful look aimed right at him was well worth it.

 

He kept his promise. After being healed in the citadel’s hospital, all of the victims from the slave boat were returned to their homes, or offered a place to stay and a job in the citadel itself, if they had no home to return to. Lotor contacted Allura – Altea’s Princess – personally to see about getting the omega home. He’d also taken to inquiring about the omega individually. 

It wasn’t like him. He was never the type of person to make connections so quickly, let alone personally see to one of the people he’d helped. If he did that, then he’d have to do it for everyone, and that just wasn’t plausible. 

But this omega… there was something different about Lance.

Yes, he’d inquired about the omega’s name. 

Lance was returned to Altea safe and sound. Lotor was oddly relieved to know that Allura would take care of him personally, seeing as it was a request from Lotor himself. Still, he was almost… disappointed to know he wouldn’t be seeing the omega again. He’d spent some time with Lance in the hospital while he was brought back to full health, and not only was the omega a little spitfire, but he was flirty and confident, and he cared deeply for the world around him. When he was clean and healthy, his skin glowed, and his eyes were a brighter blue than the summer ocean. His scent was positively divine – not a compliment Lotor often gave.

Lotor wanted to see him again. It was maddeningly distracting.

So when Allura arrived for a scheduled meeting with an idea forming in her mind – evidence to her scheming, allusive, but endearing nature – Lotor was both sceptical and keen to agree.

“He wants to do an apprenticeship here,” Allura said, when she and Lotor had time to themselves to relax in the palace. “Lance’s family is full of talented marksmen, and I can verify his skills myself. He’d do well in your archery program.”

Lotor kept his face empty of emotion. “The program is open to non-citizens,” he agreed. “Lance is free to join, if he so chooses.”

A smile flittered across Allura’s face. She raised her teacup to her lips. “The program also happens to take place here at the palace archery field, does it not? I was sure to mention it to him when I brought it up.”

Lotor sipped at his tea, too. Allura loved to meddle, and he’d grown used to her perceptive ways. If she was recommending Lance come here, perhaps to see him… then maybe he had a chance to court the omega. “Has he recovered from his ordeal?” Lotor asked as casually as he could manage. He was very aware of the fact that Lance’s captors had been alphas, and he loathed the thought of hurting Lance in any way because of insensitivity on his behalf.

“As well as one might expect,” Allura said. “He’s not keen to travel alone. But he’s not frightened by alphas, if that’s what you wish to know. And he harbours no ill will towards you or your people, of course. Just the opposite. He won’t shut up about the handsome Prince who rescued him.”

Lotor had the decency to preen at that. How could he not, when the omega he had his eye on spoke of him? “I’ve never been interested in an omega before,” he confessed, though it was a well-known fact. “I’d hate for him to come here and be…”

“Disappointed by you? Hardly. He may not be royalty, but that boy knows what he wants better than half the people I know,” Allura snorted, amused. “And I know you, cousin. No one of royal status interests you. No one who’s grown up spoilt and never worked a day in their life interests you. No one with a passive or gentle demeanour interests you. Lance is none of those things.”

“No,” Lotor agreed, “he certainly is not.”

“He’s hard-working and strong-willed, and more than ready to stand up for himself. He could certainly whip you into shape.”

“I hardly think that’s appropriate to say.”

“It’s true, though.”

Lotor paused. “I can’t say I disagree.”

Allura laughed. “Shall I tell him he is _eagerly_ awaited, then? That there’s a certain Prince willing to give him a personal recommendation into the archery program? And a tour of the palace, while he’s at it?”

Lotor flushed. He acted put-out, and said, “If you must.” He could not hide his delight.

Allura saw right through him. She grinned. “Wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday on the 23rd (this Friday) and I want to write something special to celebrate! Are there any particular suggestions you want me to do? ^^


	17. Keith/Lance - Handler

Keith held his breath as he peered around the corner. The hallway was dimly lit by large, glittering chandeliers. He expected to find guards or sentries – something other than the nothing he was coming across. Was the intel wrong? The mark was meant to be here, meant to be hiding somewhere in this building like the coward he was.

“Where to next?” He whispered into his earpiece. 

“Down the hall,” Red told him. “The rooms are empty. Ignore them.”

Keith peered around the corner once more, just to double check the hall was empty, and then jolted to his feet. He kept his gun drawn but aimed low as he darted down the hallway, ears keen. A set of stairs led to the next floor so he vaulted up them, his frustration mounting. Every minute he spent in this luxurious, decadent building was another that meant he hadn’t completed his mission.

“Shouldn’t there be guards?” He demanded, as he rounded another corner, passed another empty hallway, and climbed another set of stairs. He didn’t dare take the elevator, not when it posed so much danger. Elevators had cameras, and even when off, it was easy for a technician to disable the electricity and trap him inside. The stairs were the only safe option.

“There should be,” Red informed him. Red was his handler, the one in charge of his missions and his training. They operated the Red Division of an intelligence agency, one of five, actually. All fell under the Voltron faction, which was ultimately controlled by Altea, an agency even the government had no say in.

Each handler of Voltron’s five divisions – only known by their code names: Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, and Black – monitored the training of recruits and then chose one to be their main agent. Red chose Keith. He wasn’t meant to know who else had been chosen, but he did. Some he’d found out by chance, but others had been less… subtle. 

“You’re thinking about Blue’s kid,” Red said, both highly amused and utterly deadpanned. 

“I am not,” Keith hissed. 

“Sure, cub. Take a left.”

He did, and immediately wanted to throw himself out of a window. There, standing with the mark that _Keith_ was supposing to be apprehending, was “Blue’s kid” – or the Blue division agent, as he was meant to be known. But then again, Lance never did anything he was meant to, did he?

Lance was loud. He loved to flirt and had a smile that let him do so with complete ease. There was something infuriating about the way he did his job. Keith didn’t like his casual nature, but was even more infuriated by his sheer talent with a gun. Lance never missed a mark, not even once. Keith had seen him sit on a rooftop and hit a mark with a bullet aimed to break their handcuffs from several blocks away, all without breaking a sweat.

“Play nice, cub,” Red reminded him.

Keith repressed a snarl. His eyes swept the room once then twice, first for immediate threats, and again for any secondary dangers. Lance had despatched all of the guards without damaging even a single piece of furniture in the room. Keith was so infuriated that he felt his cheeks go red. It had absolutely nothing to do with the cheerful smile Lance aimed at him.

“Keith! So glad you could make it,” he said, as he skipped over the mark – tied up – to loop his arms around Keith’s shoulders.

“I am holding a gun,” Keith protested, as he tried to worm his way out of Lance’s grip, “and the safety is off!”

“No worries.” Lance grinned, his grip on Keith tightening. “Sorry for taking your mark, but I was already here, so…”

Keith frowned. “You were already here?”

“Yep.” Lance waved a hand in the air, looking entirely too flippant. “Diamond smuggling bust happened in the basement. Turns out that guy was also this guy,” he pointed at Keith’s mark, “and he was using a bunch of different aliases to keep the diamond business and the murder business separate. Two birds with one stone, right?”

“Blue should have told Red to cancel my operation. That’s a lot of wasted resources–”

“Nonsense! We get to see each other, right? We totally get combined credit on this.”

“I literally did nothing but climb a dozen flights of stairs.”

“Yeah, well, they had an inkling that you were coming, so it made it way easier for me to sneak in.”

“They wouldn’t have known what we look like.”

“They were looking for someone wearing red.”

Keith scowled. Each Voltron agent had a different sheen to their uniform, even if they all wore mostly black. It was high-tech clothing, equipped with all the latest improvements for ease of movement, safety, and versatility. Keith could wear the same thing to the Sahara and Antarctica and be comfortable at both. If the light caught him a certain way, then the big V-shape on the chest of his suit glinted red. Blue for Lance. It was a bit obvious to someone who was looking for it.

Not that they often got caught or seen, but that was beside the point.

“We should definitely head back to headquarters together,” Lance declared. “Is that alright, Blue?”

Before Keith could protest, Lance gave him a victorious cheer. Keith could only let out an aggravated sigh. He watched Lance go through the motions of clean-up in preparation for the extraction crew and patiently waited to hear Red’s verdict, knowing his handler was listening in.

“Your transportation is scheduled to arrive shortly,” Red said. “I can organise a solo transport if you’re really so against it.”

“Its fine,” Keith growled, arms crossed.

Red’s voice was full of amusement as they hummed. “Why are you always so grouchy around Blue’s kid, little cub?”

Keith had thought about that a lot, actually, and he’d only ever come to one conclusion. “Because,” Keith said, his voice edging on a whine, “he’s _hot.”_


	18. Hunk/Lance - Coward

Hunk had always liked Lance. At first it had been in a friendly, childish way. Their mothers knew each other and therefore they knew each other, had since they’d both been born. As kids they were always together. Hunk was generally an agreeable person, and he hated conflict. Hated anything that made him nervous, really. He didn’t have the strongest stomach. 

But Lance made him nervous in a good way. Or he had in the last few years, anyway. Even if Lance was a few months older than him, Hunk had presented first – beta. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that knew him, really. He wasn’t overtly dominant or out-spoken, so despite his big size and inherent strength, he didn’t have the common traits of an alpha. And he wasn’t noticeably submissive or gentle either, not in the same way obvious omegas were. Beta suited him just fine.

A few months after him, Lance presented as an omega. Hunk had liked him for years before that – he realised this now that he was older and had had more time to think about it properly – and Lance’s status was just another thing to love about him. He was confident and kind and nothing could ever stop him once he’d set his mind to something. He didn’t let his omega status stop him from achieving things that perhaps were still wrongfully discouraged for omegas to achieve.

Point was, Hunk liked Lance. A lot. Probably too much, if he were being honest with himself. He was sure it had been a slow, casual thing, falling in love with Lance. He could definitely imagine why people would fall for Lance the instant they met him, but it hadn’t been that way for him. They’d been friends for as long as he could remember. Lance had seen him at his worst and best, and vice versa. Falling in love with one’s best friend was a dangerous game and Hunk had starting playing it before he’d even realised what proper love was.

He doubted Lance could ever love him back the same way, though. Lance was so… much, and Hunk was, well… not enough. Not everyone appreciated his body type even though he was strong, and hey, that was alright. Not everyone wanted to date a beta either. It was the norm for omegas to partner up with alphas, even if times were changing, and views regarding same or cross-gendered mateships were loosening. It was normal to see omegas walking down the street hand-in-hand with other omegas. Or to see betas cosying up to alphas. It didn’t have to be omega-alpha or beta-beta anymore. An omega dating a beta was totally plausible.

But not as common as an omega wanting to date an alpha.

Hunk knew that Lance had no qualms about relationship stuff. He liked pretty much any gender that walked and talked, and his affectionate nature had him bestowing attention on anyone he deemed a good (or particularly attractive) person. He was a likeable guy with a lot of friends. Someone that was easy to pay attention to. A goofball with a caring heart. Plus he had gorgeous eyes and legs to die for.

And really, what wasn’t to love about that?

He wasn’t sure he’d ever have anything to offer Lance. That didn’t really stop his instincts, though. Even though he was a beta, and a beta’s instincts were less pronounced than an alpha’s or omega’s, they were still there. Hunk wanted Lance’s attention, and he’d hoped that if he courted Lance, then he’d get it. That or be gently rejected, but either was better than knowing he never tried, right?

So he did things he thought Lance would like. Things that perhaps a friend, even a good one, wouldn’t do for just another friend. He cooked food for Lance a lot, more often than not just for him these days. He never ate until Lance had started. He let his scent linger on Lance’s skin whenever Lance hugged him. He growled when lousy alphas catcalled Lance (this one was something he had little control over). He tried to do all the small things an alpha would do around an omega they liked – standing straighter, staring off other alphas, being more forward with his questions – in the hopes that Lance would take notice of him more.

Of course, it wasn’t like he was the only person trying to catch Lance’s attention. Lance didn’t always notice it himself, but others watched him like a hawk. Hunk knew that he could sometimes doubt himself or think little of himself, but when he was happy, his mood was utterly infectious. Alphas hit on Lance all the time. People from their class asked him out. Sometimes alpha girls who Lance would fire harmless puns at would tease him like they already had him wrapped around their fingers.

Hunk was so, so jealous. He couldn’t help himself. His affections for Lance seemed to get washed away in all the others. 

How could he ever be what Lance wanted? Or deserved? 

Like usual, though, Lance liked to prove him wrong.

Hunk wasn’t sure how the incident began because he hadn’t been there. He and Lance were meeting up to shop for Lance’s sister’s birthday present, and Lance had arrived at their meeting spot before him. When Hunk got there, he saw that some pigheaded alpha had cornered Lance, and was trapping him against the wall. Lance’s face was twisted into a grimace, and he was pushing at the alpha’s chest, trying to create some space.

“I told you, I’m already taken,” Lance hissed. When he spotted Hunk, he squirmed free, and all but hid under Hunk’s arm.

The alpha drew himself taller, eyes assessing Hunk in a way that was familiar and predatory – a rival male spotting someone weaker. But Hunk wasn’t weak. He was tall and strong and his beta status meant nothing when it came to helping those he loved. Sure, he was a nice guy, and he didn’t like violence. He was a pacifist at heart. But if someone was harassing Lance, acting like he owed them something just because of his status, then he wasn’t afraid to step up.

A hard stare and low growl had the alpha backing off. Hunk wasn’t a small guy. A lot of alphas had less muscle than him, or less height. Not many seriously wanted to mess with him, if the situation came to it (which it never really did). The alpha stormed off with a scoff and a few muttered curses.

Lance’s fingers curled in Hunk’s jacket, his eyes frustrated and downcast. He didn’t move away. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“What for?” Hunk asked, confused. He rubbed Lance’s back, sensing a drop in Lance’s mood. 

“I just… I make you take care of me all the time,” Lance confessed, like it was something to be ashamed of. “I don’t mean to make you get in fights. It’s not like you.”

Hunk’s heart ached a little at Lance’s forlorn expression. “It’s okay, Lance. I’d do it even if you didn’t make me.”

Blue eyes glanced up at him. “But why?”

Hunk flushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he glanced away, feeling flustered. He was still a coward in the ways of the heart, he supposed.

Lance pressed his forehead against Hunk’s chest. He seemed a little calmer. “Why can’t someone like you hit on me instead?”

Hunk’s heart fluttered. “Well, I’ve been trying,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lance’s head jerked up, eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

Well, there was no digging his way out of this one. He just shrugged.

Lance was silent for a moment. “Then, all the baking, and the… everything? Courting?”

“Yeah,” Hunk admitted.

Lance’s fingers pulled at his jacket a little. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” He whined.

“I just didn’t… think you’d want someone like me.”

“What?” Lance scowled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Lance, not everyone is interested in my status,” he said, “or my body shape.”

“Well I’m interested!” Lance cried, his scowl deepening. “How could you think I wouldn’t want someone who’s always loved me? We’ve always been together, Hunk. I like you just the way you are.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” 

“Then… we can date?”

Lance’s cheeks went red. “If- if you’ll have me.”

Hunk grinned.

Lance grinned too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to the aquarium today for my birthday and it was so wonderful ahh, really put me in a good mood! Hance isn't my favourite ship (even though I utterly adore it) but this prompt definitely had all the good feels ❤


	19. Keith/Lance - Train

Keith did not agree with anything that was currently going on. He was doing his best to reign in his instincts knowing he had no right to police Lance’s actions, but he was worried. Lance was pregnant and it was making Keith feel very, very protective. It wasn’t like Lance couldn’t take care of himself, and he wasn’t taking unnecessary risks. He was quite responsible, and very away of his limitations.

But this was making Keith stressed. He and Lance were taking the train out to the country for a small holiday with their friends, just over the next seven days. It was a pretty far distance to drive, and the train was cheaper, so they bought tickets and boarded early in the morning. This way they didn’t have to worry about parking, either. Because the train they were on was a country train, it had little booth seats with a table in the centre. Not the most comfortable thing in existence, but Lance didn’t seem to mind, so Keith kept his mouth shut.

Every bump and rattle of the train made him tense. Lance was sitting next to the window, his head slumped against Keith’s shoulder as he dozed. Their feet were propped up on the chair on the other side of the booth. He had his arm around Lance’s shoulders, fingers tracing up and down Lance’s waist. Every now and then Keith would press his hand against Lance’s stomach and wait to feel his child kick before continuing.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust public transport. This train was quite nice, and they had a decent amount of space to themselves. He just didn’t like having control of the situation. He was worried about Lance being uncomfortable, and about having to sit for long, uninterrupted hours in a row. What if Lance started to feel nauseous and someone else was in the bathroom? Sometimes being in the car made him feel sick – a side effect of his pregnancy. And what happened if the train was delayed, or if a passenger made their ride uncomfortable? He had nightmares about someone eating fish and Lance having to bolt to the bathroom because the smell upset his stomach.

“I can feel you scowling,” Lance murmured.

“Sorry.” Keith rubbed Lance’s arm, turning his face to press his nose into Lance’s hair. Lance’s omega scent had changed when he’d fallen pregnant, especially as he’d started to show. It had become softer, less spicy. There was a hint of milk in its undercurrents, something youthful and gentle. Keith liked it.

“You should sleep,” Lance told him. He shifted in his seat, one hand coming down to rub his protruding stomach. He was wearing a soft sweater and a jacket, but had taken off his scarf when they’d settled into their seats. He instead had the scarf draped across his lap, keeping his legs warm. He said that the heat eased the tightness in his stomach. 

“I’m not tired,” Keith said, “but you should sleep, there’s still a long way to go.”

Lance hummed. He’d been going through a long drowsy spell this week, falling asleep in the strangest places. Keith had come home to find him sprawled out on top of the dining table, using his sweater for a pillow. He’d been very comfortable too, and irritated that Keith had woken him up (though they both knew Lance’s back thanked him for it). “As long as you’re here I can sleep,” Lance mumbled, making Keith laugh a little. He felt rather prideful to know that his omega felt safe enough with him around to fall asleep – to be vulnerable.

Keith sighed and made himself relax. A few more hours and they’d be at their destination, completely ready to have some time off. When he slumped in his seat, Lance all but melted against his side. He let out another pleased little hum, fingers worming their way under Keith’s shirt wherever he could reach. After breathing in Keith’s scent for a few quiet moments, he was fast asleep again. 

The train continued to rattle on. Keith ignored the clunking noises and the scents of other alphas drifting by. He kept his hand pressed to Lance’s stomach, attentively feeling for little kicks and nudges. Their baby was active, and they loved to keep Lance up at night. It was good that Lance could sleep on the train just so he could catch up on his rest.

That didn’t really make Keith like the train more, though. 

He supposed he just wasn’t used to it. But seeing Lance all relaxed and content pleased him, and eased his worries. They were going to enjoy themselves in the countryside – Shiro, Allura, Hunk, Shay, Matt and Pidge would all be there. He was eager to see his friends again, and to show off Lance’s pregnancy (to a reasonable degree – he was just very excited to be having a baby, that was all). This would probably be the last major trip they had until well after the baby was born too, considering how big Lance was getting. Long travel wouldn’t be even remotely comfortable for much longer.

With another sigh, Keith rested his head against Lance’s, and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t fall asleep deeply, but he could at least doze, knowing that Lance was completely fine. Soon they would arrive at their destination and then the relaxing could truly begin.


	20. Keith/Lance - Lucrative

Keith was good at noticing things. Sometimes he’d see something flit in the corner of his eye and his reactions were fast enough that he could catch whatever it was that’d been there. He had an interest in unnatural things and spent a lot of time hunting them, getting himself into trouble all the while. But he found things. Through sheer stubbornness he found things and got himself into even more trouble.

Eventually he got so good at finding things that the people who did it for a living hired him.

It was a very lucrative business. The company was called Altea, but internet searches brought up nothing on the name. Absolutely nothing. Altea wasn’t a division of the government, it was separate from that, like it didn’t exist at all. That was the point. The things Altea dealt with didn’t exist, at least not to the general population’s knowledge. A lot of nasty corporations with the same uncanny incognito abilities as Altea used the creatures – the people – they discovered as trophies, as bait to lure others out. As show pieces.

Keith’s curiosity for the supernatural was just that – a curiosity. He felt no need to expose them, to profit off them. The thought of doing that made him feel a little queasy. Rather, he was satisfied with just knowing. He’d spent so long trying to prove they existed that the knowledge that he was correct was enough for him. 

Of course, this curiosity did transform into something more protective and driven as he began working for Altea. He saw all kinds of people and creatures rescued through Altea’s system. Vampires, werewolves, pixies, nymphs… there was once even a three-headed dog like the mythological Cerberus, though it had only been the size of a Chihuahua (though no less vicious). 

Point was, his penchant for noticing unusual things was a pretty useful talent for someone like him. Altea employed him to find people in need and bring them back to the rescue centre, where they could be helped in any way possible. And kept out of the black market. A lot of the time’s he was sent in to extract captured victims – he was pretty handy with a blade. Sometimes he came across them without meaning to and it was his job to get to them before someone bad did.

The guy he’d found was clearly worse for wear. Keith had noticed him instantly – he had a strange slump to his shoulders, something normal humans didn’t have. He walked like he was terrified of someone snatching him off the street, which was unfortunately a likely reality in this part of the neighbourhood. Keith had never seen him before and wondered if this was someone who, out of desperation, had come looking for a safe place with Altea. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

Keith cornered him in an alleyway. Definitely not the best place, nor the cleanest, and it stunk to high heaven and back. Time was important, though. He had get to the guy before anyone else did.

The guy clearly didn’t trust him – a smart movie. But Keith was from Altea, and he had no reason nor desire to hurt him. He would have explained that if some creep with a knife like the ones people on the black market used hadn’t come staggering out of the shadows.

It was a quick fight. Keith drew his Altea knife and disarmed the man before he could hurt anyone, sending his weapon skittering off behind a couple of trashcans. A solid knock to the head with the hilt of his knife send the man sprawling in the same direction too. He wasn’t even panting.

But the guy he’d been following was terrified. He was pressed against the wall, arms held protectively in front of him. Wide, watery blue eyes begged Keith not to hurt him. He was attractive in every way that Keith liked, but now was clearly not the time for thoughts like that.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Keith promised, as he carefully put his knife on the ground to free up his hands. He showed his palms. A bracelet bearing Altea’s pendant dangled from his wrist.

Blue eyes slumped, his shoulders drooping. He looked on the verge of collapsing to the ground and stumbled. He would have hit the pavement if Keith hadn’t jumped forwards to grab him. Despite being tall and wiry, he was surprisingly heavy. When Keith’s hands pressed to his back, he felt something strange. Something soft and misshapen. Frowning, he lifted the back of the guy’s jacket and saw pure white feathers peeking out from under his shirt. He hastily lowered the jacket.

“Please,” blue eyes whimpered.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Keith said. Worry stirred in him. The guy was trembling, and from this close up, Keith could see cuts and scrapes all over him. “Listen to me, you’re fine. Just breathe, okay? C’mon, you can do it. My name is Keith.”

After a few gasping breaths, blue eyes shuddered and went limp. He was exhausted but conscious and looking at Keith like he was going to cry. “I’m Lance,” he croaked.

God, he really was pretty, even when he looked like he was going to burst into tears any moment. Keith couldn’t help but feel a little smitten, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. With a grunt, he helped Lance stand, and looped one of Lance’s arms around his shoulders. He was careful not to press his hand to Lance’s back, unsure if any pressure on whatever sort of wings he had back there would be careful. Or inappropriate. It was impossible to tell with people who weren’t human.

“Don’t worry Lance, I’m not going to hurt you,” Keith said. “I promise.”

Lance watched him for a moment but nodded, and lowered his gaze. He pressed his face against Keith’s shoulders like he couldn’t keep his head lifted anymore.

Keith kept him upright. “Let’s get you back to Altea.”


	21. Hunk/Keith/Lance/Shiro - Signature

The first time it happened, Lance didn’t think it was a coincidence. Sure, it was only the first time, so he had nothing to compare it to. He hadn’t even been sure it would ever happen again, actually. He’d been pretty sure it wouldn’t, but he clearly had no talents for seeing the future, because it had. Still, the first time it happened, he knew it wasn’t by chance or luck.

Hunk had sought him out personally.

Lance found him on the beach. Every day he walked down through a small forest path to get to the sand where he’d gather shells and check his fishing nets off a long, rocky ledge that stretched out into deeper waters. The bay where he lived was small and peaceful, and he never encountered any particularly vicious ocean predators, so swimming in the water was a preferred pastime of his. 

He’d been bent over observing the corals growing in a shallow rock pool when he’d caught Hunk’s scent over the salty breeze of the ocean. He knew instantly that Hunk was like him – a nature spirit, though their specialities were different. Hunk had looked haggard and travel weary, but Lance wasn’t particularly surprised by this. His home was the only one within miles of the beach. There was no one else. That was kind of the point, though.

People like Lance attracted too much attention. His magical signature was strong, and his scent was too sweet. On a very superficial basis, people liked him. His energy lured them closer. He had a witty streak and a flirty personality, and he still sort of thought all his charm was wasted out here by himself. But for the time being, this was the best and safest option for him. He needed time to settle into his powers. He’d only come into them a short while ago, and his presenting had caused quite the problem in his town. He had too much energy and no proper way to control it.

The solution was fairly simple. He would live somewhere isolated where his magical signature was distant enough that only his mates would be able to find him. Hunk was the first. He’d actually been looking for Lance, had followed his magical signature all across the mountains to find his little beach cottage. 

Lance could tell who Hunk was the moment their eyes met. 

It had been years since then. Hunk stayed with Lance and they were happy. He used his skills with the earth to help Lance grow a wide variety of plants and fruits in his garden. After a week of getting to know him, Lance had let Hunk place his mark on Lance – a sign of mateship. There was little doubt in Lance about Hunk. He’d never met anyone so kind or determined. And he liked the way Hunk’s magic felt. Warm, gentle, accepting… everything he wanted.

Hunk’s mark sat on the back of his shoulder. He’d let Hunk choose where he wanted to put it. The mark was a little yellow symbol, almost like a flower. Lance adored it.

Some years later – which was really nothing in the lives of people who lived as long as they did – Lance felt a stirring in his magic. He’d been tending to the garden while Hunk slept in that morning. It was a pleasantly sunny day, the air warm and smelling of the sea, just like how Lance liked it. For a moment, it took him a moment to understand what had caught his attention.

It was faint, but he was sure another one of his mates were getting close. There was no way to tell how many he had, how many any of them had. Not until they’d all met and bonded. Only then would Lance and his mates be afflicted with any sort of complete feelings.

After setting aside his work, he’d gone in to wake Hunk. Thankfully Hunk was quite attuned to Lance’s magical signature, and had begun to stir the moment something changed in it. He was still sleepy but he dutifully got out of bed, just as curious as Lance about the new magic signature. Lance had never felt anything like it – Hunk’s was solid and warm, like most nature spirits’ signatures. This one felt steady, more rigorous. Not in a bad way, but in a new way. 

They found Shiro wandering around through the forest, utterly lost. It stood to reason that anyone who wasn’t a nature spirit would have some trouble navigating a forest without paths or a map, and Shiro was no nature spirit. The dark, feathery wings sprouting from his back were proof of that. He was unlike anything either Lance or Hunk had ever seen.

It took longer than expected to get Shiro back to the cottage. He was exhausted, and could barely stand. Lance’s magical signature might’ve kept him relentlessly travelling for days as he came closer and closer, and that left Lance with lingering feelings of guilt. It wasn’t like he could control it, and he wouldn’t feel better until Shiro was back to perfect health. Hunk had to support most of Shiro’s weight as they headed back to the cottage.

Getting to know Shiro was a longer process than getting to know Hunk had been. He was more guarded, and carried responsibility like a physical weight on his shoulders. He’d been enlisted in the army years and years ago, where he had lost his arm and been pretty scarred up. As a result he was guarded and self-conscious, and didn’t seem to believe that both Lance and Hunk found him incredibly attractive. 

Not just physically, either. Personality wise, he was just what they needed. He was a leader, and had a lot of willpower. As tough as he seemed – especially with his physical traits – he was a gentle person with a sweet, protective streak. Lance was willing to take Shiro’s mark a month before Shiro felt like he deserved to give it. He left it along Lance’s right collarbone – a black feather, just like the ones on his inky wings.

Lance secretly thought that the isolated lifestyle suited Shiro. After a year or so of peaceful living, all the tension in his shoulders had left, and he always wore a small smile. Being with mates didn’t just mean starting families and having sex. It was about making bonds, about being with people fated to love you more than any other. Lance also secretly thought that the sex was a nice, pleasurable bonus, though.

Eventually, their last mate showed up. Of course, Lance didn’t know Keith was their final mate until they met, but they wasn’t the point.

Keith was a shifter. He shot down the beach like a fire-cracker, injured and bleeding red all over the sand. Something bigger than him – which seemed impossible, because his shifted form was a wolf as tall as Lance – had taken a bite at his leg, leaving him limping and in pain. He was half-feral when Lance rushed down to the beach to find him. Shiro had to use all the strength he could muster to get Keith to settle, the weight of his wings pressing Keith down to the ground.

A month passed before Keith was able to shift back. His wound had to heal, had to be stitched up and cleaned. They took turns caring for him, staying up late at night in case he woke. He shifted back when Lance was watching over him. Keith was just as handsome in his normal form as he was when he was a wolf – dark hair, thick eyebrows, a sharp jaw. He had an attitude too, and he made Lance very competitive.

Lance liked him. Obviously. But he liked Keith’s quick temper, and the way he rose to Lance’s bait in a way Shiro and Hunk would never. As soon as he was conscious he laid his claim on Lance, leaving a red paw print in the crook of Lance’s neck. He’d never seen something so clichéd but he loved it anyway. Keith was eager to fit in with them, and although he acted like he didn’t like it, he really loved their affection.

It may have taken years, but Lance’s little family was finally complete. The energy of his mates dampened his magical signature, and he grew more confident in himself, knowing that he had people who loved him for him. Eventually they ventured back into towns and markets, but they decided to continue living in the cottage anyway. It was peaceful for them. Perfect.

Lance was content with his lot in life. He had his mates and wore their marks proudly (just as they each wore his – a blue wave). His magic had settled and slowly, but positively, he and his mates were overcoming their own problems. He had never been happier, never felt more whole, until he had his own family. Until they were all together.

And what more could he have ever wanted?


	22. Keith/Lance - Affectionate

Lance absolutely loved it when Keith went into heat. Not just because the sex was good, which it most certainly was, but because Keith became so much more affectionate. He was normally alright with affection when they were home alone, but in public wasn’t really his thing, which Lance could respect. Holding hands and having Keith’s arm around his shoulders was enough for him. 

But heat made Keith more affectionate, more eager to seek out Lance’s attention. His scent became sweeter and more honeying, like he was trying to lure Lance closer. As if he had to even try. The moment Keith gave him that look, the one that said he wanted Lance to focus on him and only him, Lance was completely gone. 

It helped that Lance was also an omega, he supposed. He experienced the same rush of hormones, the same mood swings, the same clinginess. Keith was almost more than willing to put up his antics when he was suffering due to his biology. Lance was far more dramatic about it too, and so it would be unfair of him to become frustrated or exasperated by Keith’s uncharacteristic behaviour.

Besides, he found it endlessly cute. His mate was usually all tough and aloof, so to see him become softer and more desperate for attention was a real treat. At times he could still hardly believe that he was lucky enough to have Keith all to himself. Keith was handsome and strong, and even if he was completely oblivious about it, he did actually draw the attention of quite a lot of people.

Of course, his natural expression – a brooding glare – tended to ward people off. But that wasn’t to say Keith was an unpleasant person to be around. Sure, he and Lance hadn’t gotten along at first, but that had changed. Obviously.

Now they got along very well. They still bickered and argued, but there was never any real heat in it. They’d both learned how to apologise, and how to mean it, too. They’d been mated for more than a year now. The fact that they were both omegas didn’t bother either of them. Some people didn’t like it, but Lance couldn’t have cared less about their opinions. He loved Keith, and Keith loved him. What more was there to it?

Their cycles were starting to sync now that they’d been mated for a while. Started to, but not quite yet. That did mean Lance got to experience Keith’s affectionate side before he became just as addled, though.

Keith liked to drape himself over Lance’s back. He’d find Lance in the kitchen, or seated on the floor in the lounge room folding washing, and press against Lance’s back with as much of himself as he could. He’d whine in Lance’s ear or make little huffing noises until Lance set aside whatever he was doing.

Other times Keith would demand Lance relax with him. They’d cuddle together on the couch or in bed until Keith was smothered in Lance’s scent to his satisfaction. Keith liked to nuzzle his cheeks against Lance’s scent glands in the crook of his neck to get more of Lance’s scent on him. Lance had a habit of doing the same thing, actually. He thought that it was a very sweet gesture. 

Some people probably would have become frustrated by Keith’s behaviour. He could get a little possessive, and growled if anyone bothered him when he wanted Lance’s attention. He tended to rub his scent all over things he claimed as his own, whether it was clothing or people or otherwise. And he whined a lot. Especially when he didn’t get his way.

But honestly, Lance didn’t mind. He was flattered by Keith’s affections, and glad that Keith sought him out so much. It made him feel special in a way that not a lot of other things did. And he was a cuddly, affectionate person himself, so he would never say no to Keith curling up in his side, or sitting on Keith’s lap if Keith wanted that. How could he deny his mate anything he wanted?

The answer was that he couldn’t. And he didn’t particularly want to, for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite busy tonight, so I will have to edit this properly tomorrow morning. Please forgive any mistakes!


	23. Keith/Lance - Selfish

It wasn’t like they were trying to keep it a secret. Their relationship, if it could be called that, just _happened._ Not accidentally, because things like that weren’t an accident, and they had to talk about it for it to become real. But it wasn’t planned. Lance didn’t look at Keith and immediately think _I want to date this guy._

God, no. He’d thought the exact opposite.

But he’d changed his mind. 

Still, they hadn’t told anyone they were dating yet. It had been a few months now, but they were still keeping it quiet. It wasn’t because they were ashamed of their relationship, or anything. Lance wasn’t quite sure why they hadn’t told anyone yet. Whenever he thought about mentioning it, even just casually in normal conversation, he felt all uncomfortable and nervous. He didn’t normally let his nerves get the best of him, but this felt different.

It bothered him a little, actually; the fact that he couldn’t understand why he felt that way. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so alienated from his own feelings. And well, since he _was_ dating Keith, who better to bring it up to?

He asked Keith about it when they were together. Not even Lance’s parents knew that they were dating, but they didn’t question when one of Lance’s friends stayed over. Studying was a good excuse. Besides, Lance had a lot of siblings and rowdy cousins. There was always someone else to occupy his parents, always someone with a more worrying problem than Lance having a boy alone in his room with him. It wasn’t like he and Keith did anything inappropriate, anyway. Most of the time all they did was actually study. Or sometimes, like then, they laid shoulder-to-shoulder on Lance’s bed, staring at all the glow-in-the-dark stars he had stuck to his ceiling. 

“Why haven’t we told anyone?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not ashamed,” Keith was quick to reassure, his brow furrowed with worry as he turned his head to look at Lance. 

“I know, I’m not either,” Lance said, relieved. 

The worry in Keith’s brow lessened. He turned his eyes back to the ceiling. “I just… I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it before. I just want to keep it to myself.”

Lance hummed. He agreed with that too, but Keith already knew that, so he didn’t say anything. 

“Maybe I’m just being selfish,” Keith continued. He was quiet for a long, thoughtful moment, before he shifted a little, the sheets rustling under him. “Maybe I just want you to myself for a little while longer.”

Lance flushed, filled with a strange, secret delight that only came to him when Keith said things like that. He never thought Keith had it in him. Sometimes Lance thought he was more in love with Keith than Keith was with him, but Keith liked to prove him wrong on that account, even without realising what he was doing.

“I can agree with that,” Lance eventually managed to say.

Keith snorted, the corners of his lips twitching up. He twisted onto his side and Lance got a sudden inhale of the cologne Keith wore, something dulled from the day but warm and spicy. It made his cheeks go red because now that scent meant something more than just Keith – it made Lance think of Keith close enough to cuddle, of Keith leaning against him, of Keith falling asleep with his head against Lance’s shoulder. 

He really liked it. Just that one scent made his stomach leap.

Of course, his stomach loved to do leaps when Keith kissed him, too. He did that then. He had this habit of grabbing Lance’s face before he did, like he was giving Lance a chance to move away. He’d slide his palm across Lance’s cheek, fingers cupping under his jaw and around his ear. The warmth from his palm would always bleed through those silly fingerless gloves he liked to wear.

The press of Keith’s lips against his own made Lance sigh. He leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed, and let himself enjoy Keith’s affection. Even if he only ever got it when they were alone, he didn’t mind. It felt special, knowing that they were the only two to share this secret. That it was theirs, and theirs alone.

Keith pulled away after a moment, huffing out a pleased breath. They both paused when footsteps ran up the stairs, but it was just one of Lance’s siblings darting back to their room, so they both dissolved into quiet fits of laughter. There was something thrilling about keeping a secret like this, too, something they both liked.

In the end, it didn’t matter how long they kept it to themselves. They’d like each other whether it was a secret or not!


	24. Allura/Lance - Catch

Allura was an alpha with a taste for pretty omegas. Of course, she liked people in general and thought herself to be a fairly friendly person, but when it came to relationships, she certainly did prefer omegas with a flair. 

That’s why she was certain Lance was perfect for her. He was flirty and confident, even if he became a stuttering mess when someone returned his flirtations (a reaction Allura thought was quite adorable). He was serious when it counted and could be quite charming if he wished, though he always seemed to prefer using cheesy puns and pick-up lines on those he found attractive (which, after some careful observation and totally casual Instagram stalking, she found to be pretty much everyone). And he was proud of his omega status. He didn’t try to hide it, and was very supportive of others, which she liked. He had a good heart.

Allura supposed that her attraction to Lance was helped along by his evident attraction to _her._ The first time she met him, he’d actually caught her in his arms after she’d taken an unfortunate stumble down a short flight of stairs. He’d cracked a joke – “Already falling for me, Princess?” – and she’d made fun of his ears – “Why do they make your hair do that flicky thing?” – because it had been the first thing to come to mind.

Of course, she’d thought he had cute ears. They peeked through strands of his hair, making the wisps stick up like he’d just rolled out of bed. Allura was not blind to Lance’s physical charms, not even during their first unfortunate meeting.

Luckily for her, Lance wasn’t deterred by her somewhat rude comment. At least not for long. He seemed to enjoy the rush of flirting, and liberally handed out compliments to anyone who he thought deserved it. They ended up working in the same building, which Allura wasn’t particularly surprised about. She was, however, surprised to end up as his boss. Lance turned out to be her new personal assistant, which was definitely a nice change. Her last one had been ghastly.

It was while they were working that she truly got to know him. Lance put a lot of effort into everything he did, no matter how mundane it was. He memorised her coffee orders within a week, though it took some insisting on her behalf to convince him that he could get himself coffee too. It was only polite, she said, since she was asking him to get hers. He also learned that she preferred pink highlighters over other colours, and soon all of the notes that went from his desk to hers were highlighted with pink. He even watered her desk plants, and suddenly she didn’t need to replace them as often. 

All in all, she quite liked him. Not only for his looks, but for all of him, even his embarrassing (but endearing) quirks. 

Courting him had certainly been an interesting experience. Lance had mistaken her intentions as teasing, not believing that someone like her could be interested in someone like him. Which in itself was ridiculous, because he was quite the catch. She’d resorted to asking his friends what would get through to him, and together they’d managed to think of something that worked.

Allura was quite pleased with herself, to be truthful. She and Lance had been courting for months now, proper dating, and she was very satisfied with the relationship. Lance’s open adoration of her was very flattering, and she loved the way he made her feel so appreciated and loved. He wasn’t intimidated by her alpha status, and he didn’t care that they were pretty much the same height. She had a bit of muscle on him too, and even though that would have put off some people, he actually _liked_ it. Liked that she had the strength to manhandle him a bit.

“What are you thinking about?”

She glanced towards her office doorway and felt a smile steal across her face. There he was, the omega who’d taken up all the space in her mind, acting as if he didn’t know he could be such a delightful distraction.

“Nothing,” she said, as she pushed her chair back, gesturing Lance over. His sweet scent had begun to fill her office, and she wanted him closer. He was in a cheery mood today, and his steps were bouncy as he pranced across the room without a care in the world.

“I finished all that paperwork you wanted done from yesterday,” he said, as he deposited a stack of papers on her desk. With all the confidence that she loved, he slid himself straight into her lap, his arm looped around her shoulders. “You sure you’re okay all cooped up in here? I know you’re busy, but…” He shrugged, helplessly affectionate with his concern, a sweet smile on his face.

Allura hummed and leaned forwards to press her face against the cool skin of his neck. He was wearing a blue button-down and black pants that hugged his figure nicely. The button-down’s collar was neatly pressed, leaving the skin between it and his ears exposed for her perusing. She couldn’t get her nose against his scent glands, but this was good enough. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his waist and pull him tighter against her, smiling to herself when she felt his laughter reverberate through him.

“I’m alright, but thank you for your concern,” she said, when she felt sufficiently recharged. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Lance’s fingers affectionately patted her hair. “Well, if you ever need anything, you know where I am,” he said, pointing through the door when his desk lay just outside. She laughed at his teasing.

“I’m alright for now,” she said, “but I’ll call if I need you.”

“Alright.” He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her forehead. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Oh, how she really did.


	25. Keith/Lance - Ocean

“Give the necklace to Lance,” the woman pleaded, as she bundled the blankets in her arms closer. The child within was only days old, his skin still smooth and unused to the outside air. She feared that this world would prove fatal to him, like it was proving fatal to her. To them all.

Quickly, the necklace was passed through the crowd and into her outstretched palm. A heavy blue crystal sat threaded through a silver chain, accompanied on either side by small white shells born in bottom of the sea. It was what granted them life, what first gave them the ability to breathe air, to feel the sun on their skin.

But this world was poison, and not even the strength of the crystal could sustain them all forever. However, if it could sustain just one– if it could give life to just _one–_

She tucked the necklace over her infant’s head. He barely stirred, his eyes closed. One chubby fist curled around the chain. For a moment, she allowed herself to stroke his face, his strands of soft, fine hair. It was the same colour as hers. 

“We must hurry,” her husband reminded her, though his voice was tight and pained, words barely able to leave his lips. He spared one last look at their son, gently passing a large hand over the baby’s head, before turning away. His voice strained to be heard. “We must hurry.”

Anguish struck her. Her child was too young to return to their homeland, his body ill-equipped to deal with the change in environment now that he’d been born on land. It would take years, almost his full maturation, before his body would be ready to live in its most natural habitat. When all his people must flee to the ocean, he alone, just an infant, must remain.

There was no fairness in it. None at all.

But she’d found a place for him. Somewhere where her precious child could live, could be raised by gentle hands and kind words. Somewhere where he wouldn’t be an outcast, where he wouldn’t be tossed from house to house like a leaf in a current. All the while she’d been pregnant with him, begging him to wait a little longer, to be born when they were submerged in the sea, she’d been preparing for this outcome. No matter how much she wished he’d waited longer to arrive, he had been born on land, and on land was where he must remain.

Remain without her. 

Without his family.

While her heart broke in two, she laid her baby in his cradle, keeping her hands on him for as long as possible. The moment he could no longer sense her warmth, his face scrunched up, and he let out a lonely, pitched wail. 

“You’ll be safe, my dear one,” she whispered, eyes wet. She tucked his blanket in tighter around him. “Never think that we don’t love you. That you aren’t the most important thing to us in the entire world. I love you, my sweet Lance. I always have and I always will.”

Soon, the cries of her infant would wake the people who lived at this temple. They’d find him before he could grow cold, and the crystal he wore around his neck would tell them who he was, what he was. He would be safe here. He would be loved here.

She had to be sure of that.

It had to be true.

Otherwise she was leaving her child all alone.

 

“Lance! Wait for me, dammit!”

A joyful burst of laughter left Lance as he rushed down the forest path towards the sea. He could hear it now, a distant rush of water that sounded as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. This wasn’t the first time he’d run off from the temple grounds to see the ocean, and it wasn’t likely to be the last, either.

Keith followed him in an irritated mood. Lance knew that Keith hated it when he snuck away, and considering that Keith had been tasked with protecting him, Lance could probably understand why he became upset. But it wasn’t like Lance ever went far, or even to different places. He always, always went to the sea, ever since he could walk on his own.

As the trees cleared, the shore suddenly came into view. Lance vaulted over the wooden fence of the boardwalk and dropped down onto the sand, filling with delight. He didn’t know why, but the ocean always filled him with a sense of belonging. He’d never been able to explain why he desperately needed to be by the water. 

Keith dropped down beside him with a scowl on his face. His eyes darted in all directions, looking for threats that Lance knew wasn’t there. That was something else he couldn’t explain – Keith’s protectiveness over him.

They’d been together since they were children. Lance had been left to the care of the temple workers when he was only days old, and Keith – a year older than him – had been his only companion for years. Lance had been awfully attached to Keith as a child, he was told. Somehow that had eventually become a sentiment that went both ways. Shiro, Keith’s older brother and the caretaker at the temple, liked to say that Lance’s obvious favouritism for Keith from when he was a child had made Keith feel special, that his adoration for Keith and Keith only had given Keith a sense of purpose. 

So when Keith was old enough, he was appointed as Lance’s guardian. Nobody seemed to mind that their ages were so close. It didn’t matter when Keith was very proficient with blades and incredibly willing to do anything to keep Lance safe.

Lance couldn’t say he hated the attention, even if Keith was a little unrealistic with his expectations (like wanting Lance to never leave his sight). If his favouritism for Keith had made Keith feel special when they were younger, then Keith’s attention being solely on him made him feel special now. Even if they didn’t always get along, it was impossible to separate them.

They were connected in ways that Lance could never fully comprehend.

“Isn’t the ocean beautiful?” Lance sighed, as Keith came to stand beside him, Keith’s hand slowly inching off the hilt of his sword.

“It’s just water,” Keith muttered.

Lance laughed at Keith’s despondent expression. He couldn’t help but turn his eyes out to the sea. “Just water or not, I still love it,” he declared, his fingers absentmindedly coming up to clasp the crystal around his neck. He’d always had it, from the moment he was born. Shiro told him that he’d been left at the temple with it. 

Keith’s expression was stormy and troubled. Lance knew that Keith didn’t like the ocean as much as he did – in fact, no one in the world could possibly love it as much as he did – but that didn’t explain Keith’s abject dislike of it. He looked at the ocean as if it had done him a great misdeed, when Lance knew that it never had. Even with all his love for the water, it was still just that: water. What could Keith hate so much about it?

“Are you okay?” He asked, releasing the crystal in favour of grasping Keith by the shoulder.

Keith rubbed his arm, his eyes shifting uneasily from the water to somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t Lance or the sea. “I feel like it’s going to take you away from me,” he muttered. “Like you’ll walk out there and never turn back.”

Something painful squeezed in Lance’s chest. He was silent for a moment, stunned by the pain that Keith’s confession brought him. He didn’t like how upset those thoughts made Keith, or the fact that he’d hidden them for so long. 

He huffed out another sigh, and squeezed Keith’s shoulder, willing the smile on his face to be light. “Are you jealous of the ocean?” He teased.

Keith’s ears went red, and he wrenched himself free of Lance’s grip. “No! Now let’s go back to the temple.”

Lance laughed quietly, catching Keith’s hand as he tried to spin away and instead pulling him in closer, until he could wind his arms around Keith’s neck and press their cheeks together. “As if I’d go anywhere without you,” he said, smiling, as he held Keith close. 

Keith resisted for a moment, as he always did, before the tension eased from him. He brought his arms up around Lance, palms pressed flat against his back to keep them together. “You better not,” he mumbled, forehead tucked in against Lance’s shoulder. 

It was as much a love confession as saying the words directly, Lance thought. Keith wasn’t good with emotions and he never had been, but this was something Lance could understand clearly, this desire of Keith’s to be close. To never be apart.

He understood it because it matched his own feelings perfectly.


	26. Lance/Shiro - Army

Lance was out in the gardens when they attacked. It had been a sunny day, something rare for the season, and he’d wanted to feel the warmth on his skin for as long as he could. He’d been ill lately, and the palace doctors had had him bedridden until they could diagnose what was making him so sick. Of course, they’d coincidentally figured it out that exact morning, which was why Lance had been released from their care for the time being.

It was just bad timing that the rebels decided to storm the city that day. Lance had heard rumours of them raiding villages, taking riches and weapons and anything of value. Worse than that however was their ferociousness when it came to omegas – with their increasingly barren city (a feat brought on by their violence, and the way they displeased the gods, no doubt), they had resulted to stealing omegas from other cities, no matter if they were mated or pregnant or entirely unwilling.

Three things of which Lance most certainly _was,_ for the record.

No one but his doctors knew he was pregnant. His mate, Shiro, had left the city to lead his army to the next town over on the Queen’s orders. He was the Queen’s best general, and the strongest soldier in the city. He was also one of the Queen’s most trusted friends, which meant that he – and his mate – were allowed a place in the palace to live. Sometimes he could hardly believe that his mate was so treasured by their kingdom, that he’d been chosen by someone as brave and kind as Shiro.

Of course, they’d been courting before Shiro rose through the ranks. Before they’d had a place to live in the palace. 

Back then, when they lived in a tiny house and struggled with cold winters but were as happy as ever, Shiro had promised Lance that one day he’d never have to worry about anything ever again. Lance had told him that he’d always worry over Shiro, even if little else plagued his mind – and both those things were true now. Lance worked with the tailors in the palace to earn his keep – something he insisted on – and Shiro led his army. They’d come far from the days where they tentatively courted one another and worried over having enough firewood to cook dinner with.

Being kidnapped, however, was not something Lance had planned on.

He didn’t resist with the rebels stormed the palace. With the majority of the guards having accompanied Shiro’s soldiers, and the rest flocking to rightfully protect the Queen and her advisors, all the omegas in the outer palace buildings and the gardens were snatched up, Lance included. If he hadn’t known a child rested in his belly, he would have done more. But male omega pregnancies were delicate, and this early on any slight bump could endanger his child.

His hands were bound with rope and he was thrown into the back of a truck with the other stolen omegas. Others were worse off than him, their faces and wrists horribly bruised, and the overwhelming scent of frightened omega soon soured in his nose.

“Lance?” One of the omegas asked, as he was jostled in beside her. The door slammed shut behind him, making every single omega crammed into the tiny, dark space flinch.

He startled at the sound of his name, looking up. It was hard to remember that most of the kingdom’s citizens would recognise him, if not in face then at least in name. This city adored its Queen, and if the Queen in turn adored someone, then so did they. Everyone would recognise Shiro in a heartbeat. 

“Are you alright?” He asked the omega, trying to hold himself tall. He could barely see in the dark cage they were all trapped in, but his eyes adjusted enough to make out faces. “Is anyone bleeding?”

A round of anxious murmurs answered him. He urged the omega beside him to shuffle further into the truck so that Lance was the first person by the door. Even if he wasn’t a soldier, he held a higher rank than these people, and it was his job to keep them safe. 

“Please, calm yourselves,” he begged, sniffing the air to try and discern any unusual scents. It took a moment, but eventually the frightened scent lessened enough for him to make out individual scents. Someone in this truck was pregnant, and at least half of them were mated. “Are there any children here, or any with child?”

There was one young omega, a boy only freshly presented. His face was stained with tear tracks and he was trembling so hard he shook the person beside him. Lance urged the boy up beside him, letting the poor thing curl up against his chest as best as he could. The pregnant woman was already cocooned on either side by two harder looking omegas, so Lance was satisfied that she would be alright.

“Is Shiro coming?” The omega who had first spoken asked him. “Is your mate coming?”

“I don’t know,” Lance answered, trying to portray calmness in his scent. “He may not know about this attack…”

There was no telling how long it would take for message of the attack to reach the majority of the army. The soldiers in the city would have enough trouble trying to protect whoever remained. Lance knew that the rebels would take them back to their city, but the only way to get trucks like these through the mountains was to pass where Shiro’s army had gone. They had a chance.

But they’d have to wait.

“I need you to try and undo the bindings,” Lance said, turning his back to the female omega beside him. She twisted around too, her fingers awkwardly fumbling over the ropes in an attempt to remove them. It took several tense minutes, but eventually they became loose enough for Lance to slip out of. While he set to removing hers in return, and then everyone else’s, he thought about what they should do. Escape was not an option. They’d be recaptured and punished, he was sure of that. He could scent rebels all around them.

Anxiously, he pressed a hand to his stomach. He was already feeling queasy again, like he had been every morning. The movement did not go unnoticed by the other omegas, some of whom looked at him in shock.

“Lance, are you…?” One asked.

He winced, cheeks reddening, and nodded. “I only found out today,” he mumbled. The young omega in his arms sniffled and held Lance tighter, as if sensing his discomfort. Lance tried his best to comfort the boy.

Unease rippled through the trucks. Two pregnant omegas and a young boy were among them. Shiro’s beloved mate was among them – a mate he didn’t know was carrying his first born child. Lance knew that that was what they were thinking, and that they feared for his safety alongside their own. 

“We just have to wait for the army,” Lance said. There was a shout outside, and then the truck rocked forwards, pulling them away from their city. He swallowed and licked his lips, trying to wet them. “Don’t fight, or else they’ll punish us all. There’s a good chance they’ll run into the army following the path between the mountains…”

It sounded like pretty promises, but it was all they had. 

He knew Queen Allura wouldn’t rest until her citizens were recovered. They were all as much her family as anyone who shared her blood. And the moment Shiro found out Lance had been taken… Lance knew he wouldn’t rest until he was found again. 

He had to believe in that.

 

A day passed before the truck stopped. Everyone inside was sore and thirsty and in dire need of a bathroom. Any water passed in by the rebels had gone straight to the pregnant woman, and reluctantly on his behalf, to Lance. There was no food.

The rebels had stopped in a wide clearing. The mountains that bordered the kingdom rose up on either side of them; they were deep into the pass now. Ahead towards the left was the next city, and the right was the ocean. If one followed the shoreline for long enough they’d eventually get to the territory of the rebels.

All of the omegas were roughly pulled from the trucks. There were three trucks in total, altogether carrying more than thirty kidnapped omegas. Lance scanned the crowd of frightened faces and found at least two more pregnant omegas, one of which was very close to birth. His concern for them was momentarily overwhelming, but he couldn’t let himself be swayed by the fear of the crowd.

“You there, get in line!” One of the rebels, an alpha with a horrid face, snarled, as he jabbed his blade at the young omega clutching at Lance. All of the omegas were being lined up like displayed goods, forced to stand at least an arm’s length apart. The young boy was too frightened to let go of Lance, his eyes big and wet, face frightfully pale.

“He’s just a child,” Lance shouted, hiding the boy behind him. “Can’t you see he’s terrified?”

The rebel turned the blade on Lance, who stiffened. “And who do we have here? Aren’t you that general’s omega whore?”

Lance growled, but his heart wasn’t in it. The alpha’s smug sneer terrified him, but he wouldn’t let this young boy be harmed. 

So when the rebel alpha lunged, he pushed the boy away and jumped in between them instead. A pained yelp left him as the spear glanced off his shoulder, not deep enough to cut but hard enough to bruise. The alpha snarled, grabbing Lance by the throat with a hand big enough to curl almost entirely around his neck. 

Lance rasped out a whine, his fingers scrabbling at the alpha’s hand. He could hear the other omegas crying out, some trying to come to his aid, but they were held back by grinning rebels.

“I think I’ll take you for myself,” the alpha declared, tightening his fingers ever so slightly. “I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Huh? You’d spread your legs for whoever rules an army, right? We all know it. And look who leads the army that captured you.”

Lance was starting to feel lightheaded. Desperate, he lashed out at the alpha, slapping him hard across the face. The alpha snarled, stumbling back as he swiped a trail of blood from his split lip off his face.

“You’ll pay for that,” he roared, as he grabbed at Lance again, sinking a fist in against Lance’s stomach.

All the wind left Lance’s lungs. He choked out a breath, instantly going limp. 

“No!” The young boy cried, flinging himself forwards. He scratched at the alpha’s hands until he released Lance, pulling Lance away. “He’s pregnant! Don’t hurt him!”

All of a sudden there was a rush of noise from the surrounding trees. Rebels and omegas scattered as familiar soldiers burst into the clearing, weapons raised. Lance’s burry eyes searched the rush of bodies until he found who he was looking for.

Shiro.

“Lance!” Shiro shouted, his face panicked as he rushed through the crowd. But there were too many people, too many omegas to protect and too many rebels to fight. Lance, as much as it pained him, waved Shiro away. Shiro had a job to do and not even his mate could come before all the innocent people who needed him.

The young omega helped Lance stumble to the edge of the clearing, where the trees provided them some safety. Other omegas joined them, and one woman bent to press her hands to Lance’s stomach, her eyes searching his face. The band around her arm, worn over her uniform, identified her as a nurse. She must have been stolen right from her workplace.

“It hurts,” Lance whimpered, his hands pressed to his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was just the pain from being punched or if it was something more.

The medic soothed him, keeping him sitting upright, all pressure taken off of his stomach. “You’re alright,” she promised. “Just breathe.” 

He kept his eyes down and let himself be comforted by the omegas with him. It only took moments for the rebels to be suppressed by the army, but it was the longest few moments of his life.

Eventually Shiro rushed over to him, bending to pull Lance into his arms. “Lance, are you alright?”

He could only whimper, pressing his face against Shiro’s neck. His mate smelt of sweat and stress, the kind of scent that only came from battle. But under it all was just Shiro’s scent, plain and simple. Familiar.

With ease, Shiro lifted Lance off the floor and carried him straight over to the army’s trucks. He laid Lance down and after shouting directions at his men, turned his attention to Lance’s stomach. He covered Lance’s protective hands with his own. “Is it true?” He whispered, eyes imploring. “What that boy said?”

Lance nodded. He whimpered when Shiro held him close, stroking his hair with all the gentleness in the world. He was glad the height of the truck allowed him to rest against Shiro with their heads at the same level. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Lance,” Shiro confessed, his voice shaky with relief. He pressed a kiss to Lance’s forehead, and then another, and then another, until all he could do was rest his mouth against Lance’s skin and breathe in his scent for several long minutes. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant. I should have known…”

Despite the situation, Lance laughed a little. Of course Shiro would blame himself for Lance’s kidnapping, even if he had no control in it whatsoever. He hadn’t even known Lance was carrying. “I’m glad you found me,” he whispered.

“Allura’s messengers can run very fast when they have an infuriated Queen behind them,” Shiro said. 

Lance gave his mate a tired smile and pressed his forehead against Shiro’s, letting himself feel as exhausted as he was. “I need to get back to the palace doctors.”

“I know,” Shiro murmured. He rubbed Lance’s stomach and scented him until Lance smelt more like Shiro than himself. “With a mother like you, our baby will be fine, I’m certain,” he said, ducking forwards to press a kiss against Lance’s slack lips. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Lance? Courageous, forgiving, loving… and now you’re gifting me a child. How can I ever repay you for all the love you give me?”

“You don’t need to repay me,” Lance whispered. “You’ve already given me everything I ever wanted, Shiro.”

Shiro let out a sigh. He nosed at Lance’s neck until he could press his lips against the mating mark he’d left there. “I’ll get you home soon,” he promised, hands still on Lance’s stomach. “Don’t worry about a thing.”


	27. Keith/Lance - Easter

Lance was in charge of the Easter egg hunt this year. His family loved to get together during the Easter holiday to have a big lunch and treat all the kids to a seemingly endless supply of chocolate. His cousin had a house with a huge garden, where willow trees, rows of flower beds, and a shallow, man-made fishpond, were perfect for Easter egg hunting. 

This year, he had Keith to help him. It was Lance’s job to hide the eggs and make sure all the kids got a fair chance at finding them, which wasn’t so hard as long as they followed the rules. 

It was nice to see Keith join in. It was what his family did, and Keith had been very reluctant at first. They’d known each other for a while, but dating was a recent development, and Keith was still slowly getting used to all the people in Lance’s family. There were quite a lot, after all, and his family members were notoriously nosy, no matter how pure their intentions happened to be.

Keith enjoyed the Easter egg hunt, even if he’d never admit it out loud. He spent the morning helping Lance hide the eggs in creative spots, and then when everyone had arrived, he watched the kids go after them. Keith wasn’t always comfortable around children, but when they were distracted by the prospect of finding eggs, he seemed to relax. 

Lots of the children in Lance’s family liked to share the eggs they found. A few minutes after they’d been released into the garden with their Easter baskets at the ready, Lance’s youngest siblings and a few of his cousins raced over to where he and Keith were standing to share their chocolate eggs. They’d insistently press them into Lance’s hands and hide them in Lance’s pockets, and then turn to give Keith the same attention.

It surprised Keith at first, Lance could tell. Keith’s family wasn’t very large, and there weren’t any young children, or at least not as many as there were in Lance’s family. They didn’t really celebrate Easter so Keith hadn’t going Easter egg hunting since he was young enough to still believe in the Easter bunny. 

Eventually Keith had a whole bunch of chocolate eggs to himself. He shot Lance a confused, helpless look, as if he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them all. It made Lance laugh.

He knew that Keith secretly loved being included in all of Lance’s family events, even if he was nervous around so many new people. Lance loved to bring him too, loved to let Keith know his family as intimately as he did. Everyone loved him – even the children, obviously. Lance’s cousins always teased him about how handsome his boyfriend was. Keith had really wowed his family almost by doing nothing other than nervously introducing himself.

The family had instantly seen that Keith was eager to impress them because he loved Lance. That was enough to win them over. Of course, Keith himself hadn’t realised that, but Lance was sure he would, in time. It was because Keith was so honest and raw with his emotions that Lance’s family responded so positively to him. He was already a part of the family.

Which meant that at Easter, he got as much chocolate as the next person. More, probably, considering how many children were sneaking eggs into his jacket pockets when they thought no one was watching.

Lance was watching, though. Keith’s flustered little smile was hard to look away from. This was probably his favourite Easter ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter, to those who celebrate ^^


	28. Keith/Lance - Bond

Keith didn’t like it when people touched his wings. He didn’t like it when anyone touched him anywhere, but especially not his wings. He usually kept them tucked down against his back, almost completely flat against his skin. Having other people’s hands on them felt almost like sandpaper, and it left him feeling dirty and uneven.

There were some exceptions, of course. He didn’t mind when Shiro touched his wings. Shiro was like a brother to him, and had raised him for most of his life. Whenever one of his wings had torn or been scratched as a child, it was Shiro who would carefully mend him. He didn’t need the same amount of care now that he was older and the membrane of his wings was thicker and sturdier, but the sentiment remained the same.

He’d also become used to his superiors fitting his wings with armour. The border wars were ending by the time he matured, so it was mostly training regimes that saw him fighting now. Any drills or training sequences they ran required them to suit their wings in armour. A band wound go around the connection point, and then a larger plate made of ridiculously light-weight metal would be fitter over the exterior edge of each wing. It ensured that no blade would be able to slice through anyone’s wing on accident. He had no choice but to get used to other people fitting his armour. He didn’t like it, though.

There was only one person’s touch that Keith craved. Only one person’s touch he actually liked.

Lance was different from most people Keith met. He was loud and over-confident, and he had a habit of flirting with anything that walked by, though his flirting was all bad puns and lame pick-up lines. It didn’t really work on anyone.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It worked on one person. 

It helped that Keith found Lance attractive, he supposed. He’d been surprised when Lance had aimed his stupid flirting at him. How was he even meant to react to stuff like that? In the end, though, it all worked out for him. Even if it took months of bickering and rivalry, he’d ended up with a caring boyfriend and someone he could trust beyond all measures.

And someone who’s touch he craved.

For the better part of the beginning of their relationship, Lance had strictly respected Keith’s aversion to touch. Even though he was a very touchy-feely person, he never pushed Keith’s boundaries, and was very good at keeping himself in check. He’d tentatively touch Keith’s hand before holding it, and ask if he could hug Keith. He didn’t kiss Keith until Keith expressed his desire for that, either.

His attitude changed after some time. He became used to Lance’s presence, and used to the way Lance made him feel. It had scared him at first, the way he craved Lance’s attention. It started first at his hands – he wanted to touch Lance, to feel the softness of his skin, run his fingers through Lance’s hair. It escalated quickly, as did most things between them – soon he wanted Lance’s arm around his shoulders, or to put his hands on Lance’s hips. It was a constant feeling of wanting more, more, more.

Eventually, it became Keith wanting Lance to touch his wings. That feeling surprised him the most. It had happened once, by accident. They’d been in bed and Keith’s wing bindings – the soft ribbons many people wore to bed to keep their wings comfortably aligned – had loosened, leaving one of Keith’s wings to slump open. Lance had rolled over and put his hand straight on it, and in their sleep, nether had noticed. Keith had woken to Lance’s hand absentmindedly stroking his wing, and when he’d stiffened, Lance had woken up, too.

Lance had apologised profusely, but Keith hadn’t felt like he had much to apologise about at all. He’d liked Lance’s touch. It was so soft and reverent and gentle… he’d almost fallen back asleep. 

Since then, Keith had been a bit more open about his wings. When they were at home together, he’d leave them unbound, and after some time, spread comfortably wide. Sometimes when he walked by Lance their wings would touch, because Lance didn’t often bind his. Lance would always shy away, apologising, but after some time he started to cotton on.

It started gently. Lance would let their wings brush together, his bright blue against Keith’s burning red. Just small touches. Then Lance would touch the space between Keith’s wings, between his shoulder blades, and let his fingers wander to the connection point between them. He’d fix Keith’s wing bindings at night because Keith did actually find them more comfortable to sleep in (there was nothing worse than accidentally sleeping on a wing and waking up to it numb). 

A proper conversation had to take place before Lance was willing to touch his wings any more than that. They spoke in bed, because that’s when Lance brought it up. He asked about Keith’s boundaries and his feelings, two things Keith didn’t really like talking about, but did anyway. By the end of it, though, Lance had his hands on Keith’s wings, and Keith was sure that was what they both really wanted.

Keith really did like it when Lance touched his wings. He’d stroke the entire length of them, making Keith’s skin prickle pleasantly, or trace his fingertips around the patterns of shapes that ran along the surface. His touch did crazy things to Keith. 

But it made him feel good. Feel treasured. He couldn’t word those feelings to Lance, but he knew Lance could understand how he felt, that Lance could read him in a way no one else could. Lance loved to touch as much as Keith loved being touched, and knowing he was the only one allowed to hold Keith like he did…

It created a bond between them. Something quiet and safe. It was nice. Really nice.


	29. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Rest

Absentmindedly, Shiro ran his hand up and down Lance’s leg. They were lounging on the couch, him sitting upright, Lance laying down half slumped against the arm of the couch with his legs up on the cushions. One was propped against Shiro’s thighs, within easy reach of Shiro’s hands. With every moment that passed, Lance slid further and further down against the arm of the couch, his eyelids droopy.

It had been a long day, and neither he nor Lance or Keith were in the mood to do anything. They’d all been rather busy later, occupied with one thing or another that cut into their leisure time and the time they usually spent together. Even now Keith was distracted by something, working away as fast as he could in the study while Shiro and Lance relaxed in the lounge room. They’d eaten diner together without any distractions, but that peacefulness hadn’t lasted long when there was always something that needed doing.

To be honest, Shiro wasn’t watching the movie he’d put on earlier that night. He was tired, and his mind kept drifting, so he let himself relax against the couch and think about nothing. He knew Lance was tired too, so he continued to massage Lance’s leg, hoping to lull him into sleep. He traced his fingertips around the edge of Lance’s bony ankle and pressed his thumb into sole of Lance’s foot, just hard enough to not be ticklish. 

With every moment that passed, Lance’s eyes stayed closed for longer and longer, until he was all but horizontal against the arm of the couch, his jacket scrunched up by his ears. His head was tilted against his shoulder and it wouldn’t be comfortable in the long run but Shiro didn’t want to move him yet. He watched Lance instead, a fond little smile touching his lips. There was always a very young, naïve look around Lance when he was sleeping. All the little motions fell away from his face, leaving his expression open and gentle. 

Shiro had never said it out loud, but he liked watching his boyfriend sleep. Liked watching them both sleep, actually. It was a quiet little moment between them that he’d come to rather enjoy, even if Lance and Keith didn’t know about it. 

Sometime later, the light in the study flicked off, and Keith wandered out. He stretched his arms high above his head as he rolled his shoulders, looking utterly exhausted. Shiro watched him cross the room to peer over the back of the couch at Lance – it made Keith snort to see their boyfriend already fast asleep. 

But Shiro wasn’t far behind him, he didn’t think. He watched Keith drop a gentle kiss to Lance’s cheek before he threw himself into the armchair, sighing. The trip to the bedroom seemed like an awful long way, now.

Still, he forced himself up, and shuffled his sleepy boyfriends along to bed. A bit of proper rest would do them the world of good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, sorry ^^" I adopted a dog today so I've been very busy! He's nine weeks old and is the sweetest thing ever ❤ (and is still patiently waiting for his name haha)


	30. Keith/Lance - Bicker

Lance had split his lip. He’d been absentmindedly biting it – a bad habit of his – when his hand had slipped out from under his chin and he’d knocked his head, biting down. It stung like a bee sting, and he could feel the little cut on the inside of his lip throbbing. There was another one of the outside that was bleeding like crazy, no matter how small it was.

“I’m an idiot,” he whined, as Keith batted away his antsy hands. “I can’t believe I did that to myself. What if it scars?”

“It’s not going to scar,” Keith snorted. He pressed a tissue to Lance’s lip, soaking up the blood before it could get anywhere. “You’re just tired. You’ve been sitting at that desk for hours without a break. Nothing could be that important.”

Lance’s grades would beg to differ, but he didn’t argue. His major thesis was due in less than a month and he felt like he was falling behind, too caught up in other assignments and life obligations. The stress of it was starting to get to him, like it always did. He couldn’t keep up with all the family responsibilities and work and studying, let alone find any time for him to just relax and enjoy himself. Even sleep had become a luxury he felt like he couldn’t afford.

At least Keith knew how to deal with him when he became crabby and uncooperative, like he was then. Keith had long since become used to Lance’s antics, even his study-induced ones, like staying up too late and fretting over every imaginable detail. There weren’t many people who would put up with him when he was like that, or even know how to deal with him.

But Keith did. Maybe it was Keith’s natural competitiveness doing most of the work, but he always prodded Lance when Lance got stuck in his head, always kept him from sinking too far in on himself. It usually led to them bickering, but Keith understood that Lance never said anything maliciously when he was like that, that he was lashing out just for the sake of it. He didn’t seem to care that Lance’s stress made him hostile and upset. In fact, it seemed to roll right off of him.

Lance could never bring himself to apologise after he acted that way, no matter how much he wanted to. The words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He didn’t know if it was stubbornness or shame that held him back, maybe even both, but whatever it was, it was something that he still hadn’t overcome. Instead he’d sulk and hover around Keith until Keith would roll his eyes and forgive him without the words having to be said.

Thankfully for him, it was a mutual behaviour. Lance wasn’t the only one blinded by stress and sleeplessness, and he wasn’t the only one prone to lashing out when overwhelmed. Keith could be just as bitter and frustrated, but his stress-related frustration was different to any other irritation. Lance could tell when it was directed at him and when Keith was just going off like a bomb. 

It worked in a weird sort of way. They’d been together for a while now and their bickering was hardly ever harmful. It was mostly playful, just teasing stuff. They knew how to handle each other better than anyone else, even if that meant navigating unpleasant moods.

Lance made sure to make up for it in other ways, if he couldn’t get the words out. He’d take over Keith’s chores, or cook dinner for a few extra nights. Something that he knew Keith would appreciate, or something he knew Keith would notice and know that it was Lance’s way of apologising. Keith always did the same when he unintentionally lashed out at Lance, and for them, it worked. 

More often than not, they weren’t harsh with one another. Stressful times did bring out their ugly sides, but it was a rare occasion that the lashing out happened. Even now, with all his stress, Lance wasn’t going to go off. He was frustrated by himself and his situation, but Keith made him feel relaxed. Only very stressful times or really, really sour moods ever had them properly snapping at one another.

“There, all better,” Keith said, when Lance’s lip stopped bleeding. “Now are you going to listen to me and relax for a bit? There’s still some time before I’m going to force you to sleep.”

Lance managed a weak laugh. “Alright, alright.” He flipped his textbooks shut as if to prove his point. “I’m tired of this anyway.”

Keith made a noise of agreement. “Let’s go watch TV or something, then. It’s no fun watching it by myself.”

Lance just laughed quietly, and followed Keith out.


	31. Keith/Lance - Wherry

Keith found a boy in the ocean.

It was a cold, biting day. Winter had come marching down from the mountains with a flurry of angry snow, stripping the trees bare and plunging the temperature of the water down into single digits at the most. There was no one around this time of year. No tourists, no fishermen, no market stalls. Only the town’s most stubborn residents stayed for the cold months, hunkering down with large stockpiles of firewood and a hope that the coming blizzards wouldn’t take out the power lines.

No one was stupid enough to go into the sea when it was this cold. Not only was the water often below freezing, some areas so cold it was began to thicken with ice, but the change of seasons brought rough, unforgiving currents. Swimming meant dancing with the threat of the undertow, one that was more than willing to crush or maim or throw its victims against killingly sharp rocks. 

Why there was a boy in the ocean, Keith didn’t know. He worked on a fairly large and sturdy wherry, and while wherries were normally meant for carrying passengers, most had been changed into a structure more suited to fishing. There was an anchored net with a winch for large hauls, and part of the interior cabin had been renovated into a storage room for large quantities of produce. During the warmer months, the wherry was manned by more than just Keith, but winter saw him alone. He never cast more than one line at a time, using handheld rods he could manage on his own to get enough food to last him at least a week at a time. 

He only ever found fish. Sometimes he’d cast a cage and drag up a crab or two, but it was mostly fish. Never a boy.

But a boy he found.

The water was furious the day the boy surfaced. Keith’s wherry was getting thrown around like a leaf, the sails snapping and groaning no matter how hard he tied them. He’d only caught two fish, and he needed at least fifteen to last the week. One day of fishing with relatively temperate waters could yield him almost thirty – enough to store some extra away, and to sell the rest to others without a means to fish for themselves. The morning was rough, but he’d persisted, and now he was glad he had.

The boy rose to the surface with a spluttering, frightened gasp, clawing at the water with blue fingers. Everything about him was blue – his nails, his lips, his skin. The veins on his face and what Keith could see of his arms were dark and straining, and despite the boy’s dark complexion, he looked terrifyingly pale. The water was so cold that his eyelashes were clumping together and freezing.

Keith hauled him aboard the wherry, abandoning his fishing pole. The boy was nothing but dead weight, made heavier by his soaking clothes. He dragged the boy inside, out of the wind and the salty spray of water crashing against the wherry’s sides, and cranked up the heating so fast the boat shuddered and grated in protest. He smothered the boy in all the blankets he could find but it did little to ease his horrific shivering.

Where did he even come from? Keith was far from the shore – with the undercurrent as agitated as it was, there was no way anyone could have swum that far out and not been drowned. It made no sense.

The temperature in the cabin was slowly inching up. Keith impatiently waited for the old boat to come to life as he crouched beside the boy, rubbing him dry with the towels. “Are you okay?” He asked, tapping the boy’s face. Icy blue eyes stared at him without seeing. “Can you hear me?”

It took several moments for any sort of recognition to come to the boy’s eyes. He gave a shuddering gasp and hunkered down under the towels. Keith hauled him up again, doing his best to get the boy into the small bed in the cabin now that he wasn’t dripping. He piled on the blankets, and dug out all the hot water bottles he could find, filling them with hot water from the tiny cooktop. 

“Are you okay?” Keith asked again, when the boy’s face was slowly starting to look less blue. He’d need to get the boy back to shore as soon as the boat was ready to brave the waves. “What were you doing in the ocean?”

“I- I don’t know,” the boy rasped, before coughing so hard he sounded like he was going to hack up a lung. “Who are you?”

“Keith,” he said. He jolted when the boy pawed at his hand, grasping his fingers in the same way a lost child would. Keith was sure they were about the same age, but there was something undeniably youthful about his frightened face, something that Keith was surprised to find himself wanting to soothe. 

“Where am I?” The boy asked, his fingers shaking. “What happened to me?”

“I don’t know,” Keith answered honestly. The gravity of the situation hadn’t hit him yet – he’d fished a boy out of the _ocean._ How could that even be possible? He made to stand, to check on the boat’s engines, but the boy let out a pitched whine, both his hands scrabbling to keep a hold of Keith’s, frozen fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Don’t leave,” he whimpered, eyes wet and desperate, “please. Please.”

Keith twisted his hand in his grip, cradling the boy’s frozen fingers between his own. “I’m not, I won’t.” He was surprised by the intensity of the boy’s desperation, and how it made him feel. He ached to comfort this boy, and the sudden force of that ache knocked him eschew. 

But he didn’t have time to focus on that. 

For now, he had to get the boy warm, and then sail back to shore.


	32. Keith/Lance - Stray

It was storming when Lance first heard the cries. He thought it was a miracle he’d heard them at all, considering how hard the rain had been coming down. The little house he and Keith lived in had a small veranda with an even smaller roof, one that tended to leak at the far end to due to age. Said leak laid wasn’t really a problem in normal circumstances because it wasn’t big enough to damage the veranda, but during very heavy rain it did sort of cause inconveniences. 

Like then, for example. The rain was relentless so the leak had made the deck wet, and sitting there in a miserable little puddle of dirty storm water was a kitten.

Its cries were so weak that Lance had barely heard it above the noise of the rain. It stumbled over its feet when he went closer, but ultimately it was too weak to go anywhere. Lance scooped it up and held it against his chest, wondering where the heck such a small thing could’ve come from. He had never seen any stray cats around the street, let alone pregnant ones. And he was sure most of the domestic cats were kept indoors, especially when it was rainy and cold outside like it was.

With no mother cat in sight, he took the kitten inside and set to warming it up. He dried it with a towel and his hairdryer on the lowest setting and checked it over for fleas and injury. Luckily for the kitten, neither seemed to be present. The kitten’s ribs were visible though, so he knew it hadn’t been eating as much as it should. And its scratchy fur meant it had probably been outside for a while. 

As cruel as it sounded, he bet that someone’s cat had had a litter, and as soon as they became too much to care for, they were all let outside with no way back in. There was no telling how far this kitten had stumbled before it had ended up on his veranda. Either way, it was with him now, and he’d make sure to take care for it until he figured out what to do with it.

Keith was relaxing in the lounge room when Lance finally brought the kitten out. He’d heard the hairdryer running and had peeked in, but left Lance be, knowing how much Lance cared for animals. When he heard Lance coming, he shot him a curious, weary look. “How is she?”

“Alright, I think,” Lance said, as he sat on the couch. The kitten was wrapped in a soft, dry towel, looking too exhausted to move very far.

Relief washed over Keith’s face. “I’m glad.” He peered into the blankets and rubbed a finger under the kitten’s chin. “She’s cute, huh?”

Lance nodded, smiling, as he passed the kitten over. As tough as Keith pretended to be, he had a soft heart. He had a feeling this little kitten wouldn’t be going anywhere.


	33. Keith/Lance - Safety

Lance was moody. Not for any particular reason that he could discern, other than to express his current discomfort. Maybe it was because his heat was coming up, and his alpha was nowhere in sight. Thinking about it, that was probably what was putting him in such a sour mood. 

It wasn’t like Keith had planned to be away while Lance went onto heat. He was indisposed with something very important at work that had taken him to the next city over, and while he was meant to be home by now, he’d had to delay his return flight for a week. It didn’t help that Lance’s heats were somewhat unpredictable, often coming a week early or late, sometimes more. One hour he could be perfectly fine, and the next he’d be frantically nesting, feeling his heat rapidly crawling up his spine.

Like then, for example. He’d been fine that morning when he woke, despite the pang of loneliness that hit him when once again, he was faced by an empty bed. Keith’s scent had all but disappeared from his pillows so Lance had taken to sleeping with clothes that still smelt like his mate. The house felt quite empty without Keith around, and Lance didn’t like it. 

Luckily for him, Keith was very forgiving when it came to things like this. He hated leaving Lance alone during his heat cycle, not only because it left him vulnerable, but because it could be quite damaging to the omega, too. He lasted about a day on his own before his was calling Keith, half whimpering but definitely whining. He hated disrupting Keith’s trip, but he couldn’t bare being along in such a state. 

“I’m taking the next flight home,” Keith said, the moment he heard Lance’s distressed voice. “Shiro can cover for me anyway. Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Lance choked out, as he wiped sweat away from his forehead. Being without his mate this close to his heat was leaving him quite stressed, because he knew heats could be painful without an omega’s bonded partner around to soothe them. He’d already built a nest, despite not having enough items with Keith’s scent on it, and he’d stocked up the bedroom with as many heat provisions as they had in the house, mostly bottled water and heat-specific protein bars. “I just miss you.”

“I’m packing now,” Keith told him, a hint of a frustrated growl in his voice. Lance knew Keith wasn’t frustrated at him, just at the situation. “Try to get some rest, okay? I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lance said as steadily as he could. He could hold out for another day or so, and Keith would be home in a few hours, well before he truly went into heat. 

“I’m sorry Lance, I should have planned this trip better.” Keith sounded pained, and even over the phone Lance knew he was angry at himself for leaving his omega all alone for so long. It wasn’t like Lance couldn’t take care of himself, but he did get quite lonely without Keith around, and Keith missed him a lot, too. They didn’t like being separated for so long.

“It’s fine,” Lance repeated. He rolled over in bed, hiding his face against Keith’s pillow, where traces of the alpha’s scent still remained. “Just… get home as soon as possible, okay? The house is locked up and I have everything I need, but…” But heats still made him vulnerable. He wouldn’t be entirely clear-headed, and he’d be very weak. Having Keith around was like having a safety net. His alpha made sure he stayed hydrated, that he ate, and that he didn’t hurt himself trying to shower in between bouts of heat. He also made sure no one entered the house, either, which wasn’t as much of a possibility, but still something Lance feared. 

“I know,” Keith murmured. “Try and sleep, Lance. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Lance sighed shakily. “Will you stay on the line until I fall asleep?” His phone bill was going to skyrocket, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up.

“Of course,” Keith whispered. “I’ll be right here, don’t worry.”


	34. Lance/Shiro - Wine

“Allura… Allura, I have a problem,” Shiro groaned, as he slumped against her kitchen table, his cheek pressed against the cool wood. “A big problem.”

Allura hummed, and passed him a glass of water as she sat down with one for herself. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair had become a mess from how many times she’d run her fingers through it or flipped it over her shoulders. She’d lost her hair tie sometime during the night and hadn’t thought to find another. 

“Are you listening to me, Allura?” Shiro demanded, glancing at his friend. “I have a big, big problem.”

“It is…” Allura leaned closer, eyeing him doubtfully. “Is it a Lance-shaped problem?”

“Yes!” Shiro exclaimed, sitting upright so fast his head spun. He put his hands flat on the table and frowned. “Have you seen his _face?”_

“I have seen his face,” Allura said, nodding gravely. She took a sip from her glass of water and encouraged him to do the same. “Is it really a problem, though?”

“Of course it’s a problem.” Shiro drained the glass in one go and could have moaned at how it brought relief to his head. He let out a wistful sigh. “I want more wine.”

“We drank it all.”

“Oops.”

“Oops,” she echoed. She tipped her glass towards him. “Go refill that and drink it. We definitely had too much wine.”

“That is so not the main problem right now,” he complained, though he did as she asked. They’d meant to spend the evening relaxing over dinner and maybe a glass of wine, but it had quickly spiralled. One glass became two which became three and soon the bottle was empty. Neither one of them were heavy drinkers, only usually consuming alcohol at social events, and while they could usually hold it well tonight seemed to be an exception. 

“Right, right. Lance, huh?”

Shiro grumbled, and with his fresh glass of water, collapsed back down into his seat at the table. “I want to kiss his face,” he muttered, slouching. “He’s so pretty. It should be illegal to be that pretty.”

“Definitely.”

“And his eyes. His eyes! They’re so blue. I’ve never seen eyes that blue.”

“My eyes are blue.”

“But not like his,” Shiro stressed. “His eyes… sparkle. Like the ocean.”

“I am too drunk for this conversation.”

“Allura,” he complained, frowning at her. “This is a serious problem. How am I meant to be normal around him? He’s just so pretty. I love his eyes.”

“I know, I know.”

“And his legs. God, he has nice legs.”

“Very nice, yes.”

“What if he’s dating someone?” Shiro fretted, frowning harder up at the ceiling. “I don’t think my heart could take it.”

Allura made a thoughtful humming noise. “I think he is dating someone? I don’t know, I’m not thinking straight.”

“He’s dating someone?”

“Maybe.”

Shiro could’ve cried. His gorgeous Lance, dating someone else? It would truly break his heart. He couldn’t stand it.

A knock at the door startled the both of them. Allura waved a hand, looking like she was ready to fall asleep. “That’s probably someone for you,” she said. “Since this is my house and all.”

Shiro went to answer the door. He was surprised to find Lance on the other side, rugged up in a fashionable coat and scarf, a small, handsome smile on his lips. “Lance,” he said, “Allura just told me the worst thing!”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. He shuffled inside, shutting the door behind himself. “Are you drunk? What did you two even get up to?”

A huff left Shiro’s lips. He had no idea what to say to that, and could only give Lance a wounded look. 

“Alright, what is it?” Lance asked, laughing, as he unwound his scarf. “What’s this horrible thing she’s told you?”

“She said you were dating someone,” Shiro mumbled, embarrassed. God, he’d definitely had too much to drink. 

Lance blinked at him. Then he began to laugh again, high and sweet, so much so that his cheeks started to turn red. “She said what?”

“That you were dating someone!”

“Shiro!” Lance pawed at his hand, lifting it with both of his own to hold it between their bodies. “Shiro, sweetheart, we’re _married.”_

There was a moment were Shiro paused, trying to take in the information he was being told. He looked at the shiny, familiar ring on his finger and then at the matching one on Lance’s, the same in every way except size. A strange, childish delight overcome him. “We’re married?”

“Yes, love.”

“That’s brilliant!” He grinned, scooping Lance up in his arms to hug tightly. “I have the prettiest husband. Allura! I married Lance!”

“That’s brilliant!” She called from the kitchen.

“This is going to be so funny in the morning,” Lance declared.


	35. Lance/Shiro - Protect

“You don’t mind staying?” Lance fretted, as he fiddled with the blankets he’d laid across the couch. “You can take the bed, I don’t mind, seriously–”

“Its fine, Lance,” Shiro soothed, putting a hand on the back of Lance’s neck. His palm was big and warm, completely encompassing the bare skin between Lance’s hair and the neckline of his sweater. He ran warm, and Lance loved it. 

Lance gave him a weak but grateful smile and tried not to shiver at Shiro’s touch. 

“And besides,” Shiro continued, as he urged Lance closer to press an affectionate kiss to his forehead. “We’re taking things slow, right? I don’t want to crowd in on your space.”

Lance sighed into Shiro’s chest, resting his forehead against his boyfriend. They’d known each other for a long time, but only been dating for a few months. Lance had been nervous that the change in their relationship status might ruin their friendship, but he’d pined after Shiro from afar for ages. So they’d decided to take it slow, to do things properly. At first it hadn’t felt like anything had changed – they got coffee, visited each other’s houses, spent time together. But it became more, slowly. It took time for them to realise that they were allowed to do more.

Shiro had stayed over a few times, but they’d never shared a bed. Lance almost wanted to ask him to, but he didn’t want to let himself dive headfirst into the relationship and possibly ruin it. He was trying to be responsible, and for now, that meant Shiro slept on the couch.

A banging from across the hall made Lance flinch. Shiro’s fingers tightened around the back of his neck, and he drew him closer, letting Lance burrow against him. “You need to find a better place,” Shiro murmured.

Lance wholeheartedly agreed. This apartment had seemed really nice at first, even if the area was kind of sketchy. The rent was cheap, the walls had been freshly painted, the floors were in good quality. It even came with a car space down in the underground parking lot. 

But as decent as the place was, it was an entirely different story with the neighbours.

A lot of the people here weren’t friendly. They’d probably grown up in a tough neighbourhood, and had shady hobbies. It wasn’t uncommon for Lance to wake up to shouting from the flat above him, or banging from the one to his left. He heard things being broken all the time, shattering glass and wood splintering. The police had visited the building twice in the first week after he’d moved in for two different tenants.

But the tenant across the hall was the absolute worst. He had a major drinking problem and liked to shout obscenities and other cruel things in the middle of the night. Lance didn’t know if it was to anyone or just at the walls. The man would often roam the hallways banging on everyone’s doors, hard enough to rattle the pictures Lance had hung in the entryway. He’d try to pry the locks open or rip off the doorhandle. If he caught someone in the hallway, he’d corner them against the wall or get handsy, trying to get money or attention or something worse. Lance had already been subjected to that once, and had learned to take the stairs the last few stories up to his level to avoid him.

Management hadn’t done anything, and neither had the landlord. Most of the other tenants had reported him to the police at some point or other, but apparently there wasn’t enough evidence of harassment to get him kicked out. 

It frightened Lance. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. He lived alone and knew that if someone really wanted to get into his house they could break down the door, locks and all. He’d taken to sleeping with a chair wedged under the handle of his bedroom door. He was trying to save up money to move, but it was difficult when he was still trying to pay his rent and bills.

“Is that him?” Shiro asked, voice sour as he cast a glance towards the front door. A mumbled shouting was starting from across the hall, one Lance knew would only get louder and louder from here on out. 

“That’s him,” Lance mumbled. “Are you sure you don’t mind staying?”

“Of course not,” Shiro reassured him, holding him a little tighter. “If you don’t feel safe here Lance, then I want to be here with you.” He paused for a moment. “Or you could come and stay with me, if you’re up to it. At least until you find somewhere better.”

Lance gave Shiro a surprised look. “You wouldn’t mind…?” It would mean he could leave here, that he wouldn’t have to pay rent for a place he wasn’t safe staying in. Of course, he’d pay board to Shiro instead just to pull his weight, but being away from here… it sounded like a dream.

“I know we said we’d take it slow, but…” Shiro shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile. “I just want you with me, always.”

Lance hid a flustered smile. No one made him feel as safe as Shiro did. There was just something so stable and welcoming about him. Something that Lance absolutely adored.

Another crude shout had him flinching again. There was stomping in the hallway, and the sound of rattling doors as the drunk man began his nightly tirade.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” Shiro murmured. He rocked Lance a little, absentmindedly swaying them. It was oddly soothing. “And this happens every night?”

“Just about.”

Shiro frowned, displeased. He kissed Lance’s forehead again, and rubbed his back. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen. I’ll be here.”

Lance smiled a little. He had no doubt that Shiro would keep him safe, that was just the kind of person he was. And Lance loved him all the more for it.


	36. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Suffer

Lance had been on the run for months now. Ever since the attack, nothing had gone right. He didn’t even know what was wrong with him. Parts of him had… changed. His skin was smoother, the little marks he’d gotten from chicken pox and falling over having completely disappeared. His hair had shed its split ends. His teeth had whitened. Even the faint stretchmarks on the inside of his arms had faded. 

And he was always, always hungry. 

Just not for food anymore.

It didn’t matter how many of his favourite foods he tried. Nothing was nice. Nothing would even stay down. As he fled across the country, he tried foods from all different places – old diners, restaurants, fast food places, even shitty gas station food. No matter what he ate, his stomach was never full, never satisfied. 

It was maddening. Completely and utterly maddening. Every time he tried to eat or drink something, his stomach would clench tighter, and his throat would burn. It was more than just having acid reflux or something. It was honest burning, so painful he felt like there were hot claws raking down his throat. He’d never felt anything as excruciating as that hunger.

Except the attack itself.

He shuddered even thinking about it. The attack had happened at night when he’d stupidly decided to walk home from the library instead of ringing his Dad for a ride. He’d stayed at the library for way too long, but he’d gotten his assignment done, so he was riding that accomplished high all the way home. Well, he would have if he’d made it back.

They had been in a dark alley. It was so stereotypical that he hated himself for not noticing. He’d felt them watching him, but when he’d turned around, hearing footsteps, there’d been no one. He’d bundled his jacket around himself tighter and carried on, but the footsteps persisted. Then they attacked. They dragged him into the alley, tore at his clothes, bit at any skin revealed. The burning had started in his arm first, where the first bite had been. 

He probably should have died.

The only reason he thought he hadn’t was because one of the bites had been too deep. It was one on the back of his shoulder, two deep pinpricks surrounded by a circle of shallower marks clearly made from human teeth. It was the only mark that hadn’t left him when he’d woken. Whenever the hunger would get seriously bad, it would burn like hell. He’d scratched at it until it bled once but that had only made the burning worse.

Deep down, he knew what had happened to him. It was that instinct that had driven him away from his family. Pure luck had been on his side – the timing had meant he was due back to university, so he’d told them he was going to live on campus, more than an hour away from home. In reality, he’d started running and hadn’t stopped. 

He was running out of steam, though. He still needed to sleep – the movies had gotten that wrong – and while the sun didn’t burn him, it hurt his eyes way more than usual and made his skin feel tight and itchy. The hunger was becoming worse and worse. Sometimes he caught himself staring longingly at people, and he knew it wasn’t because he found them pretty.

When it came to moving, he stuck to the shadows. It sounded so stupid but it was true. Moving around was easier at night, and it hurt less. There were less people around, less temptations. No one questioned him or looked at him funny when he walked down the street looking like death warmed over.

Of course he realised that moving around at night was more dangerous. He’d been attacked at night all those months ago, after all. He just hadn’t expected to be attacked again.

It was different this time. His senses were sharper, his reflexes faster. His body had changed in ways he still didn’t understand but he could move a lot quicker than before. This time he heard them coming, and he ran for it.

Even with as fast as he could run, he was slower than them. He skipped around corners and vaulted over alleyway fences trying to find a way to lose them. Panic rose in him like a tidal wave, making the hunger in his dry throat worse. God, it had been months since he’d eaten, since he’d managed anything other than a few sips of water. 

They finally got him on a deserted streets. The houses were all boarded up, and any cars left in the street had shattered windows or flat tires. Lance had fled the city the previous day, too overwhelmed by the amount of people there were. The outskirts of bad neighbourhoods were emptier. 

A yelp left him as he was tackled to the sidewalk. It didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve but it winded him, and a frightened hiss left his mouth, a sound he’d never been able to make before the attack. He lashed out, clawing at his attacker’s face, tears instantly pooling in his eyes. 

The man’s face was twisted into a cruel sneer. His lips were pushed out by a pair of fangs several inches long and wickedly sharp. The worst part was his eyes – they were wild with a crazed fever, and such a dark red they looked almost black. They looked at Lance like he was a meal.

And this man wasn’t alone.

He shouted out in pain when the second attacker, a woman, yanked on his arm. He skidded across the ground and jerked back to avoid a snap of her fangs. He kicked out hard, catching the woman in the chest, and scrambled to his feet. Even running as fast as he could, he only made it halfway down the street before the man caught him again.

Suddenly a low, deep growl echoed through the street. Lance trembled at the sound of it, feeling an instinctual urge to bow his head. The man holding him dropped him, letting out a hiss of his own.

At the end of the street were two people. Lance heard footsteps and when he glanced behind him, beyond the man and the woman, he saw a third. He was trapped in the centre of them all. He was probably going to die.

The newcomer behind him – a woman with longer, silver hair – waved her hand. Instantly the two ahead responded, springing into action. Lance yelped and scrambled out of the way as his attackers jolted forwards. A large hand closed around the back of his jacket, and with way too much ease to be human, he was thrown across the road.

Right to the silver-haired woman’s feet.

He looked up at her with a terrified, shocked expression. She spared him a glance before grabbing him by the jacket, holding him still. 

The fight between the others was over in seconds. There were horrible rips and snarls, and the sound of bones cracking accompanied by pitched screams. Lance risked a look at them and instantly regretted it – the newcomers were stronger, quicker, and in every way more powerful. He didn’t want to know what was going to happen to him.

When the two attackers were slumped across the ground, dead or unconscious he didn’t know, the woman pushed him forwards. He sprawled across the asphalt with a grunt. A hand, the same one that had first thrown him, curled across the back of his neck. He froze, feeling the man’s fingers squeeze. His eyes darted up.

The man’s eyes weren’t red like he expected. They were a medium brown shade like any normal human’s eyes. He had a scar across his nose and a white tuft of hair on his head, but for all intents and purposes, he looked human.

Even though Lance knew he wasn’t.

“Don’t dawdle, Shiro,” the woman said.

Shiro’s brown eyes fluttered, as if he hadn’t realised he’d paused. The pressure of his fingers lessened. “Wait, Allura…”

“What is it?" The woman, Allura, asked impatiently. “You know I hate this as much as you do, but it has to be done.”

“No, no look at his eyes,” Shiro insisted. He hauled Lance up as if he weighed less than a feather, turning him towards Allura, despite his squirming and flinching. 

Allura leaned closer to him, observing him closely. Her brow furrowed.

“He hasn’t drank anything,” Shiro said. “Right? His eyes haven’t changed.”

“No, they haven’t,” Allura murmured. She settled her stare on him. “When did you last drink?” She demanded.

Lance choked on a sob, hunching into his shoulders. He couldn’t speak. His throat was burning so hard he thought he might go mad.

Allura’s eyes softened. “Calm down,” she whispered, and like magic, his muscles began to relax. “That’s it. Just listen to my voice. Breathe slowly.”

He did. It was like he was a puppet, but no part of him fought it. Something about her voice compelled him.

“Now, tell me when you last drank,” she said.

“I haven’t,” he forced out.

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“I haven’t,” he sobbed. “It burns.”

Shiro’s grip on him lessened. He wrapped an arm around Lance’s waist, keeping him upright by holding him against his chest. “Allura, we can’t,” he started.

“I know,” Allura agreed. “Tell me your name.”

“Lance,” he said.

“When were you bitten, Lance?” She asked.

“Months… months ago. Three or four. I don’t know.”

A troubled look crossed her face. She looked over Shiro’s shoulder and gestured the other man closer. He was shorter than Shiro, maybe an inch shorter than Lance, but definitely more muscled. His hair was dark, and his face seemed to permanently wear a scowl. Lance could tell none of them were human, but they weren’t like him, and they weren’t like the people who attacked him.

“What do you think?” Allura asked.

The man glanced at Lance, his expression stormy. There was a beat of silence when their eyes met and it was like someone had zapped Lance. “I’ll feed him,” the man said.

Shiro startled with surprise. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” the man insisted.

“This isn’t an easy decision, Keith,” Allura said, her voice stern. 

“I know,” Keith snapped. Something possessive skittered through his eyes, and Allura eased off. It was like she could read them better than a person could read an open book. 

“Alright,” she agreed. 

“If you’re sure, Keith,” Shiro said.

“I know you felt it too,” Keith said, turning those expressive eyes on Shiro. “He’s the one.”

Shiro didn’t deny it.

Lance glanced between them, sensing a bond there that he hadn’t noticed before. Shiro and Keith looked at each other with eyes that spoke thousands of words in an instant. A sudden, deep ache in him formed, one he’d never felt before. One that wanted to be included.

The sound of more footsteps had everyone pausing. Others were coming, and Lance doubted they’d be happy to see anyone. In a few swift movements, too fast for him to comprehend, he was passed over from Shiro to Keith. Shiro hovered close by, but Allura disappeared down the street, her hair flashing in the faint light of the moon.

“Drink,” Keith said, winding his fingers through Lance’s hair to guide his head to his neck.

“No,” Lance protested, trying to twist away. He was starting to sense the rush of blood in Keith’s veins, could almost smell it. The hunger in him yawned bigger than it ever had before. 

“It’s okay,” Shiro whispered, touching the back of Lance’s head gently. “You haven’t done anything wrong. No one has ever held back for as long as you have. You haven’t had any human blood, it’s okay.”

Lance sealed his lips, turning his head away. He feared that giving into his hunger would only make it grow worse.

“My blood will make it better,” Keith said, forcing Lance’s head closer. “It won’t hurt. It won’t make you hungry.”

Lance whimpered. He was so, so hungry.

“Drink from him,” Shiro murmured, “and then we’ll get you home, okay? We’ll protect you Lance, I promise. You shouldn’t have had to suffer alone.”

Lance’s lips touched Keith’s skin. He smelt like cologne and sweat and it was dizzyingly attractive. Against his better judgement, he opened his mouth, letting his dainty fangs rest against the skin. He wanted to drink so badly.

“Go on,” Keith whispered. He sounded… soft. Protective. Like he’d found something he’d been missing. 

Lance bit down.


	37. Lance/Lotor - Model

“I don’t think I do it justice,” Lance said, frowning, as he wiggled into the second pair of pants for the day. “I know I seem confident–”

“Which you are, my dear, and for good reason,” Lotor reminded him.

“–but this is sort of out of my comfort zone.” He glanced at himself in the floor-length mirror standing in front of him, turning to the side. Like usual, the clothes Lotor made looked fantastic. The pants were form-fitting and comfortable, all seams perfectly even, the hem at the bottom the perfect length for his legs.

It wasn’t like Lance hated trying on Lotor’s clothes. He liked it, actually, knowing that Lotor made them all to his size while he was drafting designs. But Lance wasn’t a model, and he didn’t know how to do Lotor’s amazing clothes any justice. He only ever wore them in the privacy of their home or Lotor’s studio, but he still felt out of place, like he was only playing dress up. Which, in a way, he definitely was, but that wasn’t the point.

Lotor never found fault with his modelling, though. Probably because there was nothing at stake with it. When he needed to see what his clothes looked like on a person, he’d ask Lance to model them. It was something he’d only asked of Lance in the last year or so, despite them dating for longer. 

Lance supposed a lot of his nervousness was due to the fact that Lotor’s designs were so good. He was practically famous, his designs highly sought after. He frequently jetted across the world to send his clothes down countless runways. Why he didn’t put his designs on models while he was making them, Lance would never know. He always insisted on making his clothes to Lance’s size.

“If I wanted to see it on a model, I’d ask a model,” Lotor had once said, when Lance asked him about it. “But I want my clothes to be for everyone. I want anyone to be able to wear them and feel comfortable and attractive. Who better to test them on than my pretty little lover?”

He sure was charming. That was one of the things Lance loved about Lotor. He felt very treasured and valued when Lotor looked at him, like he was worth all the money in the world. Lotor never did things by half, he always put all of himself into everything – including relationships. It was one of the reasons why his designs were so popular. He put an incredible amount of time and effort into his work and it paid off abundantly every time.

“Come out now, let me have a look at you,” Lotor encouraged.

Lance sighed, and stepped out from behind the partition. “They fit really well,” he said, as he let Lotor have a look at the pants he’d made.

Lotor gave him a handsome, satisfied smile. He circled Lance once, and crouched to fix one of the hems that was sitting a little crookedly on Lance’s ankle, looking rather pleased with himself. “Like usual, my dear, you make all my clothes look stunning.”

Lance flushed. He loved Lotor’s praise, even if he sometimes couldn’t see why he deserved it. But that was just another thing he loved about Lotor – his unconditional love. It didn’t matter what Lance looked like, if he’d just crawled out of bed or spent hours making himself look nice. Lotor would shower him in compliments either way, taking enjoyment out of making Lance feel good. It was very addicting. Lance figured the least he could do was try on Lotor’s clothes if it made him so happy, considering how loved Lotor made him feel.

“What’s next?” He asked.

Lotor straightened and dropped a grateful kiss on Lance’s forehead, making him feel warm all over. He always became so giddy with affection when he had Lance model his clothes, almost even more so than he did when the clothes went down a runway. 

“Let’s see…” Lotor mused, glancing at the rack of clothes waiting for a chance to be worn – all Lances size, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

It made Lance smile. His lover was amazing.


	38. Keith/Lance - Resolved

Lance knew they weren’t meant to fall asleep in the common room. They had bedrooms for a reason, and they were still in their armour, and no one had showered. It wasn’t like the couches were as comfortable as their beds, either. Allura probably didn’t approve of it, but that didn’t stop them.

The day had been very busy. They’d spent most of it flying their lions and trying not to get killed. Work never seemed to end, no matter how many scheduled days off they planned. The suffering of others could not be put on pause while they rested. If someone needed their help, then it was their job to spring into action, to do as much as they could and then more. That was who Voltron was.

But it was tiring. Lance felt like all his bones had melted into the couch cushion. He was curled up against Keith’s side, his cheek resting against Keith’s chest. At some point Keith had slipped his arm under Lance’s head, his hand looping around to rest in Lance’s hair. It couldn’t have been all that comfortable and he was probably going to wake up with wicked pins and needles, but Lance was so comfortable that he couldn’t bring himself to move.

No one really knew that he and Keith were… something. Together. A thing. Sort of.

It wasn’t like they were intentionally keeping it a secret or anything. It was just that there wasn’t much to tell, yet. They’d been so busy that trying to put a label on what they had, that trying to define it in any way, shape or form, had been entirely impossible. For now they were just… them. That suited Lance just fine. Whatever it was between them was new and only just blossoming, and he didn’t want to rush it. Secret hand holding and falling asleep with each other was enough for him, for now. 

He was sure Allura had figured out something was going on, at least. Considering all her paladins had fallen asleep waiting for her to come debrief them, she must have seen Lance and Keith curled up together. It looked more than just friendly. When Lance blearily woke up at one point, he’d taken a look around the room and noticed everyone was covered in a blanket, and figured Allura and Coran must have found them. He was too tired to think much more than that, though, and he’d settled back down against Keith and promptly fallen asleep again.

Come morning, he was sure he was going to regret sleeping on the couch. He hadn’t managed to shed all his armour before sleeping and there were sharp edges digging into where sharp edges shouldn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sleeping next to Keith made him feel comfortable even when he wasn’t, and he was too exhausted to move anyway. They all were.

He was sure all their problems could be resolved when they weren’t completely dead to the world.


	39. Keith/Lance - Usual

“Keith, you haven’t seen my sweater, have you? The blue one.”

“They’re all blue,” Keith called from the other end of the house.

Lance huffed, propping his hand son his hips as he surveyed the mess that was their bedroom. It looked like someone had upended half the compartments from the chest of drawers in a mad search for something – Lance only knew this because it was exactly what he’d done while looking for his missing sweater. As per his usual luck, it had yet to turn up. 

“It’s the blue one with the white stripes,” Lance said, peering out of the bedroom doorway. He couldn’t see Keith, but a wedge of yellow light was falling out of the bathroom, telling him where his boyfriend was. “It’s not in there, is it?”

There was a moment where all he could hear was the rustling of clothes, likely the ones in the hamper, before Keith called out, “No, it’s not in here.”

Lance groaned and went back to searching through the bedroom. He’d already checked the wardrobe, where the sweater usually was, and the clean pile of washing waiting to be folded on the dining room table. He’d thought that maybe it might have ended up in the chest of drawers but clearly that assumption had been wrong. Now all he had to show for his intensive search efforts was a mess of clothes strewn across the bed and floor. 

They were definitely going to be late to the dinner party at this rate.

“Did you check the dryer?” Keith asked, as he came into the bedroom to survey the damage. He raised his brows as he nudged aside a shirt with the toe of his shoe. “We put another load on last night, remember? It might be in there.”

Lance perked up at that. “I haven’t checked in there yet, no.” They had put another load of washing on the previous night and neither one of them had remembered to put the wet clothes out on the line, so they’d just shoved everything into the dryer and left it be. He all but bounded to the laundry, pouncing on the washing machine with the desperation of a man running out of time to get dressed (which was what he was). 

“It’s in here!” He cried, when he found his sweater tangled amongst a pile of other clothes. He yanked it free and immediately set to changing, ignoring the way Keith was watching him flit from room to room with an amused smile. 

When he was finally ready, sweater and all, he turned to give Keith a big grin. “How do I look?”

Keith, watching him from the bathroom doorway now, only smiled. “Good.”

Lance’s grin stretched wider. He sidled up to Keith, a little thrill going through him when Keith grabbed him by the hips. “Sorry for taking so long,” he said. 

“Worth the wait,” Keith murmured, pressing a sly kiss to the corner of Lance’s lips. “Just like usual.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little short, unfortunately. My area is currently being ravaged by out of control bushfires, and we've been on emergency evacuation watch for the last twelve hours. I've been a bit distracted all night :')


	40. Lance/Lotor - Indulgent

Lotor was an organised man. He didn’t like mess, and didn’t like disorder. Routines and schedules kept him sane and prepared. Everything he did was thought about beforehand, was weighed up for pros and cons, was delicately considered. He was a deliberate man. Nothing he did was accidental or coincidental. He hardly ever made a mistake.

His preparedness was something he was quite prideful about, actually.

So it was correct to assume that his omega’s pregnancy was quite planned, too. As much as Lance wanted to be spontaneous, Lotor insisted on making sure they were both ready for a child in every sense of the word. He worried for his mate constantly, fearing that the pregnancy would be difficult for him, that he’d be in pain, that Lotor himself might not measure up to the standards Lance had set for him in his mind. He always did his uttermost best to be the alpha Lance deserved, but he knew he wasn’t perfect. 

Lance, however, was his usual confident self. He was more than content with Lotor as an alpha, a sentiment he readily expressed. They had been bonded for several years now, and together for longer. The progression of their relationship had feel very natural to Lotor. There weren’t many things in life that felt comfortably natural, like it had been decided by fate. 

But meeting Lance felt like it had.

Lotor had never met anyone like him, and doubted he ever would again. He was never particularly interested in relationships, instead focusing his energy on his career and his lifestyle. He didn’t really have preferences when it came to dating, but the moment he’d met Lance, he’d been hooked. He’d noticed Lance’s scent first – it had wafted into the room and stilled his words, making him go quiet as he’d tried to decipher what it was. 

Fortunately for him, Lance had reciprocated his interest. Lotor was quickly charmed, not only by Lance’s alluring scent, but also by his cheerful and confident personality, his cheesy pick-up lines (something he would never find attractive if not from Lance), and his stunning blue eyes. The fact that Lance was an omega did not register in Lotor’s mind until a few days after they’d met. He was drawn entirely to Lance as a person, and his omega nature was a pleasant bonus.

After taking all the necessary precautions and having all the intense, honest, informative conversations needed with his mate, they’d decided to start trying for a baby. Lance’s heat rolled around – they’d both been off suppressants since they bonded, as their cycles had synced up so that Lotor experienced his rut the same time Lance went into heat – and Lance forewent his birth control. A few weeks later, which consisted of several early morning dashes to the bathroom, and Lance’s pregnancy was confirmed.

He was about five months along, now. His morning sickness had long since eased but he was constantly fluctuating between having an overabundance of energy and none at all. Lotor’s finances were secure enough that Lance was free to take time off work before his maternity leave started, so while he did do some of his work from home, there were some days where he did nothing but rest. 

That evening, Lotor arrived home to a quiet house. He’d started leaving work earlier, something he could afford to do when he ran the company. His instincts demanded he be with his mate, and while he was perfectly capable of ignoring them, he didn’t always want to. He absolutely adored Lance, after all, and he adored their unborn child too. Why would he not want to be with them as often as he could, if not permanently?

His nose told him his mate was home and unharmed, so he didn’t let himself become concerned over the quietness. Usually Lance was awake and cooking dinner at this time, or working in the study. Sometimes he’d be watching television too, or showering. Silence was unusual.

After shrugging off his jacket and removing his vest, Lotor went in search of his mate. He found Lance asleep on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other curled protectively around his baby bump. He was wearing one of Lotor’s sweaters, one that Lotor distinctly remembered wearing the previous day. Lance must have taken it out of the hamper. 

Lotor smiled to himself as he took a moment to watch his sweet omega. Lance had very rampant nest-building instincts, and that usually led to him burrowing into Lotor’s scent-laden clothes when the alpha himself wasn’t around. This wasn’t the first time Lotor had found Lance curled up in his clothes. He had to admit, it was a very becoming look on the omega – Lance was quite fashionable himself, but Lotor just loved seeing his omega wearing his clothing.

After he’d had his fill of looking, Lotor crept closer, his footsteps quiet. He crouched down beside Lance and held his breath as the omega stirred, likely scenting him. A little wrinkle appeared on the bridge of Lance’s nose that Lotor carefully smoothed with a fingertip. He couldn’t help but huff out a quiet breath of laughter when his mate started to purr – it was a sound only incredibly content omegas made, and he was quite honoured to hear it. 

His eyes strayed to Lance’s stomach. The sweater did little to hide the growing bump, not with the way Lance was laying. The curve of Lance’s arm accentuated the shape of his belly in a way that Lotor rather liked. 

Gently, so as not to wake his tired mate, he pressed his palm to the roundest part. If he concentrated hard enough, and waited patiently, then eventually he’d feel a faint flutter of movement. Lance kept telling him that their baby could sense when he was around, that they were more active when they heard Lotor’s voice, and it pleased Lotor greatly. He sometimes wondered if the child would love him as much as they would undoubtedly love Lance, if they would share the same deep bond as they would with the person who carried them. Lance’s overjoyed, honest claims made him feel very proud and reassured, indeed.

He shifted down a little to press a soft kiss to the swell of Lance’s stomach. His scent was starting to thicken, the omega’s usual ocean-air-sugar scent infusing with something more indulgent, something more like honey and milk. It was the scent of pregnancy and something deep and instinctual in Lotor was addicted to it. This was his omega, his pregnant omega, carrying their beloved, unborn child. He supposed it was only natural that he’d fall deeper and deeper in love with Lance as the pregnancy continued.

A slight stirring from Lance had him glancing up. Lance was slowly waking, nose scrunching up again. His eyes squinted open, confused and muddled for a moment, before they settled on Lotor. He reached out a hand to touch the back of Lotor’s head, smoothing down his hair.

“Hey,” Lance mumbled, voice sleepy.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Lotor said. He kissed Lance’s stomach once more, then his forehead, before helping Lance sit upright. “Have you eaten?”

Lance rubbed at his eyes, yawning. “Not yet… I didn’t realise it was so late, sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Lotor assured him, running his fingers through Lance’s hair. “I’ll prepare dinner. Do you want to sleep for a little while longer?”

Lance peered up at him, blue eyes imploring. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Rest for as long as you need.” Lotor would be horrified to think he’d asked his mate to cook when he was tired, especially now that he was pregnant. As an alpha who currently had far more energy than his mate, it was no problem of his to take on Lance’s half of the chores for the evening. 

Besides, he liked caring and providing for his omega. It filled him with an intense sense of pride that was almost as addicting as Lance himself.

“If you’re sure,” Lance hesitated. 

“Of course,” Lotor repeated. He waited until Lance was comfortable on the couch before draping the throw blanket hanging over the back of it over him. He tucked his omega in and watched fondly as Lance’s eyes instantly started to droop.

He’d never thought his life would come to this, but he didn’t regret a single moment of it.


	41. Keith/Lance - Cake

It was common knowledge that Keith wasn’t the best cook. As a child, the only adult figures in his life who had an interest in making food were his grandparents on his mother’s side, who he visited when they went to Korea. His grandparents would make mountains of traditional and western food alike, insisting Keith eat and eat, which he always did. Eating their food had been a way to deal with the language barrier when he was younger and still struggling to understand them. 

When it really came down to it, his lack of skill in cooking was probably due to his simple taste in eating. He wasn’t picky, and paid no attention to his meals, sometimes skipping them or eating poorly. He had a fast metabolism and tastebuds that didn’t care if they were eating vegetables or junk, so he usually just ate whatever was put in front of him, or whatever he found in the cupboard.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t have preferences, though. He preferred to eat healthily and usually had a lot of vegetables, grains and meat in his diet. He was strict with his body, and made sure never to eat too much of what wasn’t good for him. As a kid he ate whatever his parents cooked, but it was different when his diet became dependent on his own cooking. There was a stretch of time where he ate nothing but cereal and two minute noodles. It wasn’t his proudest moment.

Shiro had taught him to cook a little since then. He had always taken care of Keith when Keith’s parents fell a little short – they travelled a lot, leaving Keith in the care of Shiro and his family, especially when Keith hit his teenaged years. Shiro was determined that Keith knew how to take care of himself, so he taught Keith the basics – how to cook rice, pasta, how to prepare vegetables, how to make sure he didn’t kill himself with undercooked meat. He had intended for Keith to expand his knowledge from there, to experiment with spices and sauces and that sort of thing, but Keith really just wasn’t interested in the act of cooking. 

But he could, if he had to.

Baking, however, was an entirely different story. He never realised how different the two forms of cooking were until he tried to make cookies and ended up with lumps of charcoal. Cakes and biscuits were completely beyond him. He couldn’t make pastries or cupcakes or pies. He’d tried to before, because it’d seemed simple. Boy had he been wrong.

His apparent lack of skill didn’t stop him from trying, though. While he had no interest in cooking and no success in baking, he really wanted to make a cake. A birthday cake, specifically. For Lance. His boyfriend.

Even just thinking about it made him groan, embarrassed beyond relief.

He wasn’t a very romantic guy. He still had no idea what it was about him that drew Lance’s attention in the first place, or what kept it. When it came to relationships Keith had little experience, but he loved Lance, and that was all that mattered, right? He hadn’t told Lance that yet, but he did. He could still hardly believe he had a boyfriend in the first place.

As much as he loved Lance, it seemed a cake really was out of his league. The first had turned out burnt. The second followed in much the same way. He gave up trying to bake from scratch with the third and tried one out of a box mix and for a while it seemed like that one was going to be okay. The bottom was a little black, but when he stuck a skewer in it, it came out clean. That was meant to be a good thing. 

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated getting this far. It wasn’t like he could just give Lance a plain cake. He had to decorate it, right? How hard could that be?

Harder than making the cake, it seemed.

The kitchen was an even bigger mess within an hour. There was icing all over the bench because the mixer had had a fit and thrown it everywhere. He didn’t realise icing sugar was so powdery, and now he was covered in it. He’d also spilt the sprinkles, because apparently that needed to happen, as well.

At least some of the mess had landed on the cake. He’d quickly realised that the cake needed to be cooled before icing would stick to it, which was his first mistake, but it was iced now. He’d used whipped cream around the edges and put little strawberries in it because it sort of distracted from the lumpy shape of the cake. He’d made an attempt with the sprinkles around the edge.

Standing back, he thought it was… okay. It was probably edible. When he stuck a “happy birthday” candle in the centre it even began to look like a proper birthday cake. 

Except it was ugly.

And definitely not good enough to give to Lance.

He was just about to hide all traces of his shameful attempts when he heard Lance arrive home. He froze, panicked, when Lance wandered into the kitchen, looking for him. He knew the moment Lance realised what Keith had been up to – his eyebrows shot up, blue eyes widening with surprise. 

“Is that for me?” 

Keith winced, shifting uncomfortable. “No…?”

A grin curled at the corner of Lance’s lips. “I think it is.” He set his bags down and came over, peering at the cake with a fascinated expression. “You really can’t cook.”

Keith hunched into his shoulders. “I know,” he muttered.

“But I love it,” Lance said, smiling. 

“You do?” Keith asked, doubtful.

Lance snorted. “Of course I do! Look at it, it’s so cute. You made such a mess making it I can only assume how much effort you went through. I love it.”

Keith’s eyes searched Lance’s face, watching his boyfriend’s fond and soft expression. Lance’s face had a way of baring every emotion, and Keith loved it. His heart always seemed fit to burst when Lance’s eyes went all sparkly when he laughed, or when a smile twitched at his face, one he thought was hidden from everyone else. 

“It probably doesn’t taste that great,” Keith said.

“Doesn’t matter.” Lance hooked a hand around the back of Keith’s neck and drew him in to plant an affectionate kiss on his lips. “I love it anyway.”

Keith smiled a little. As long as Lance liked it, he was happy.


	42. Lance/Shiro - Stay

It wasn’t often that Lance found himself scared. Things like horror movies, particularly large arachnids, loud, unexpected noises… those sorts of things certainly frightened him. He wasn’t easily frightened, but it happened sometimes. 

This, however, was different.

He was terrified.

Realistically, he knew walking home alone at night wasn’t safe. His boss had asked him to stay back a few hours and considering he really needed the money, he hadn’t said no. By the time he was finished it was dark outside, and the trains had stopped running. It was only a twenty minute walk. He thought he’d be alright.

He’d thought wrong.

See, the night seemed to bring out the worst in people. Lance was an unmated omega, and anyone who got close to him could probably smell it. He’d sweated off all his scent suppressors during the day and didn’t have any replacements on him. His scent was basically a calling card for drunk, pig-headed, indecent alphas, the ones who thought unmated omegas owed them something, like they were the apex species of the world. 

A group of them had confronted Lance. He’d tried to walk around them, hadn’t risen to their taunts or jeers, but that hadn’t deterred them. They’d pushed him against a wall, jostled him between them like some toy, put their hands where he didn’t want their hands. He was ashamed to say it, but he froze, completely out of his comfort zone. It didn’t matter if he shouted or protested. 

He’d never been so utterly terrified. So hopeless. They could have done anything to him and he wouldn’t have been able to stop them. 

But he’d been saved. He didn’t know if it was his petrified scent or his increasingly loud protests, but someone had heard him. 

The omega that came to his rescue was ridiculously muscled. Lance caught sight of him and immediately thought he was another alpha, but the omega’s scent soon overwhelmed him, angry and protective and sweet. It was the most confusing combination, to see such a physically strong person carry a scent so omega. It was even more confusing to see an omega take on three drunk, rowdy alphas being fuelled by their own testosterone and win.

Lance couldn’t stop trembling. The omega asked him questions, but when Lance was unable to answer, he whisked him away to the nearest hospital.

That left Lance where he was now, sitting in an emergency room bed with a stranger’s consoling arms around him. He had Lance tucked under his arm, resting against his chest. Lance couldn’t bring himself to let go of his omega saviour. The man was comforting in a way that was because of something more than just the fact that he’d rescued Lance. 

They were waiting for a nurse. He didn’t have any injuries, nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises, but he was panicked beyond belief, and a panicked omega was not a healthy omega. Too much rushing adrenaline could produce a hormone that attacked an omega’s body, leaving them in an almost comatose state. The only reason the nurses hadn’t separated him from his saviour was because Lance whined at the mere thought of being alone. 

“Sorry,” Lance eventually managed to force out as minutes slowly crept by. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the omega soothed, rubbing Lance’s back with a large hand. “Are you alright?”

Lance nodded, but the effect was ruined when he flinched at the sound of shouting coming from another room. 

“You’re having a really rough night, huh?” 

“Just a bit,” Lance agreed. He bit at his lip, and then shrugged. “I’m not- not usually like… this.” Not usually so weak and clingy. He certainly didn’t attach himself to random strangers. 

“It’s not a problem, honestly,” the omega said. He looked down at Lance with a flushed and open expression. “I’m Shiro, by the way.”

Lance gave the omega a tentative smile. “Lance.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lance.”

“Likewise.” Lance had never met someone who seemed so… proper. Not only was this omega big, but he was strong and polite, too. Lance was charmed by his pretty brown eyes and the strange tuft of white in his black hair. “Thank you for… for before. I really appreciate it.”

“Now that’s really no problem at all,” Shiro said, his spine straightening. He had all the air of a leader, like he knew what was right from wrong. “Being drunk is no excuse for assaulting another person, regardless of their status. They had no right to harass you like that.”

Lance let out a heavy exhale. He knew Shiro was right, but he still felt frazzled, like someone had shaken him as if he were a snow globe. It was taking a while for all the little snowflakes to settle again. “Thank you for helping me,” he repeated, because he wanted to say it properly. “And for staying here.”

Shiro rubbed his back again. “I’ll stay for as long as you need me,” he promised. 

Lance flushed, feeling delighted and comforted. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Do you want to get coffee sometime? I mean, as a way for me to say thanks.”

Shiro’s eyes widened with surprise, but his mouth pursed into a worried line. “I’m not an alpha,” he said, looking oddly exposed. “I have the physique of one, but I’m an omega.”

“I know,” Lance said, puzzled. “Unless… unless you’re not interested in omegas?”

“No I am,” Shiro said. “Are you?”

Lance laughed a little, unable to help himself. Shiro was worried Lance wasn’t into omegas, and sure it wasn’t the most common preference for omegas to have, but Lance was certainly interested. “I definitely am.”

Shiro gave him a small, handsome smile. “Then coffee would be great.”

Lance returned the smile, feeling his worries finally start to ease. Something good was going to come from this night after all. 

Besides, it wasn’t every day that one found themselves heroically rescued by such a pretty omega.


	43. Lance/Shiro - Jewel

Shiro liked to see Lance draped in jewels.

His fondness for such an image surprised him. He was never a materialistic person, not even when anything he wanted from the world was within reach. As the beloved Prince of a large, prospering kingdom, he could have had anything he wanted. Instead, his parents raised him to be kind and compassionate, to put personal connections above luxury items, to give more than he took because he had the capacity to. 

But it was so different with Lance. He’d met Lance, the son of a merchant from the kingdom, at a public ball. Shiro attended and enjoyed them regularly, but the night he’d met Lance had been the best one yet. He’d been completely charmed by Lance – first, by Lance’s embarrassed, shy reactions to him, and then by his ridiculous pick-up lines and overabundant amount of confidence, something that blossomed the moment he realised Shiro was just a normal person.

They’d had a slow, secret romance. Shiro had never really showed an interest in marrying until he met Lance. He’d fallen in love and only fell deeper and deeper with each day that passed between them. He’d been with Lance for a long time now, and they were engaged to be married – royal engagements lasted a long time. But they’d been together in everything but marriage for more than a year now. Lance even lived at the castle with him. 

When it came to spoiling Lance, Shiro went over the top. He knew Lance appreciated thoughtful gifts or time spent together more than things of monetary worth, so he spoiled Lance with those things more than bought gifts. He took Lance on walks around the palace gardens every evening the weather permitted, and brushed his hair for him when Lance let him. He got just as much affection and attention from Lance.

Shiro just loved spoiling Lance, when it came down to it. And he loved seeing Lance in pretty things, mostly because it made Lance feel pretty, and his confidence was addicting.

The jewels were never large or ostentatious. He’d get small rings with a gem inlaid in the band, or a bangle in the same style. Sometimes he’d buy Lance body chains, the type worn over a slim shirt or tunic, with a single blue gem resting between his collarbones. Other times he’d get Lance a little diadem, or a brooch. Something that accented his eyes. Something small and delicate.

Lance usually accepted his gifts with minimal complaining. He always seemed surprised to receive them. “I already have a necklace,” he’d say, looking at Shiro with a doe-eyed look, like he was worried about being too spoilt. 

“And now you have another,” Shiro would say, smiling, as he fastened the clasp around Lance’s neck. He adored the warm, flustered look that came to Lance’s face every time he got something precious. “You look beautiful.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

There really was nothing better than spoiling Lance.


	44. Keith/Lance - Mage

Lance wouldn’t call himself a judgmental person, but in his line of work, one had to be very selective about the customers one chose to serve. Most people like him didn’t choose to share their magic, but a few did – like Lance, for example. But only for those who really deserved it.

For the most part, separating the worthy from the unworthy was an easy process. He could have done it with magic; a wave of his hand and the truth would be revealed. But where was the fun in that? Technically, he still used magic to get the job done, but he used it on himself so he didn’t count that. 

See, Lance was only willing to share his magic with people who would use it wisely. Sometimes people came to him for a cure to an illness, or for a potion or charm that would increase their luck. Sometimes they came to him asking him to chase away their nightmares, or to help them sleep. It could be anything, really. The things magic could do were only limited by one’s skill and imagination. 

Now Lance didn’t really condone tricking potential clients. It wasn’t good business, after all. But the people who deserved his service were the only ones who ever found out they were tricked, and they were more than happy to pass a test to get what they wanted. 

He’d turn himself into a cat. He had a fondness for them, and his familiar – Blue – was a lion so it seemed only fitting. Over the years he’d found that a person really showed their true colours when they either walked past or helped an injured cat. Most people assumed he’d be fine on his own, or feared that he’d be feral, and wouldn’t approach. He knew those were rational conclusions, as real cats weren’t friendly a lot of the time, but the people who really deserved his help were the kind willing to help him in return.

Lance admittedly had a bit of a sense for when someone was looking for him. He was the only mage in the area who took clients, so he had a knack for knowing when he was needed. He always got a little tingle at the base of his spine when someone came looking for him. 

After transforming into a cat – something small, with short brown fur and a bobbed tail – he trotted himself out of the safety of his warded home and onto the streets. Most people didn’t notice him, but that was the point. He slipped between alleyways and behind houses, under fences and through gardens, before he finally started to get that tingle again. Then, with all the grace in the world, he threw himself into the dirt and let out a pitiful meow.

It took a moment for his potential client to find him. He sensed the man before he saw him, and was momentarily surprised by his youthfulness. It wasn’t like Lance didn’t have young clients, but this guy looked like he was the same age as Lance himself. He had dark hair that fell between his eyes and was a little too long at the back to be fashionable, and eyes a strange, almost indigo colour. He looked tired, but very determined. He certainly filled Lance with a rather potent amount of curiosity. 

When he came close, Lance let out another weak mew. The man startled at the noise and looked down at him, stopping his determined walk. He looked around him, as if searching for whoever Lance belonged to, but ultimately crouched down to let Lance scent his hand. He was being cautious, but when Lance displayed no animosity, he rubbed his fingertips under Lance’s chin. 

“Are you hurt, little cat?” The man murmured.

Lance mewed again.

Gently, the man slipped his hands under Lance’s body and lifted him. He kept Lance tucked against his chest as he sought shelter under a nearby awning, where there were less people and a better sense of privacy. The man’s fingers carded through Lance’s fur, prodding at his stomach and at the base of his bobbed tail. “You don’t look injured,” he said quietly. “Where’s your owner? Do you have one? Don’t worry, I’ll get you home.”

Lance felt oddly flattered. He could sense the man’s honesty, and his firm intentions. He must have been looking for Lance before finding Lance-the-cat, but was willing to delay or give up his search in order to help him. That certainly qualified for a little help in return.

Squirming free, Lance waited for the man to put him down before darting off. He shot the man a look and meowed, ears perked upright. After a moment, the man followed him, a puzzled frown touching his face. It only took minutes for Lance to make it back to his house, the man trailing behind him in a lost, confused manner.

“Is this your home?” He asked.

If Lance could smirk as a cat, he definitely would’ve then. This was most certainly his home, and not that many were welcome to it. When he was certain the man wasn’t going anywhere, he leapt in through his cat-door, and transformed himself back into his human form. He patted down his hair before yanking the door open, wearing his brightest smile.

“Welcome,” he said, as he met the man’s eyes, “to the mage’s home.”


	45. Lance/Shiro - Iron

Lance groaned as he heaved the flower stand up. It was a heavy metal thing, something his grandfather had handmade more than sixty years ago for his grandmother when she first opened the store. Both the store and the stand had been passed down to Lance’s mother, and now to him, to take care of. 

He liked working at the flower shop, heavy lifting aside. His grandmother had established the shop as a place where everyone could go for anything they might need relating to flowers. They grew and sold flowers for all types of ailments – flowers for blocking scents, easy-to-digest wolfsbane, a type of garlic vampires could actually ingest without getting reflux, a seed that fairies could use to practice their earth magic on. Everything. They even had a type of catnip for werecats like Lance and his family, which made the perfect treat. 

Most of the time, he only ever served customers with a desire for normal flowers. Something pretty to give their wife. Something to gift to new parents. Something to brighten up their dining table at home. That sort of thing, the sort of mundane, everyday occurrence that made life a little more pleasurable. 

That morning, however, Lance had a more exotic request come in. He’d only been open for a few minutes, just enough for him to get the flowers out on display, and to put up the stand out the front where potted plants and fresh bouquets could rest, when the man appeared. Lance’s somewhat enhanced sense of smell told him the man was a vampire.

And boy was he handsome. Ridiculously so. Lance was momentarily surprised by just how pretty the man was – he was tall and broad, with dark hair and brown eyes. A classic, timeless type of handsome. There was a scar across his nose, and one of his arms was a prosthetic, but Lance hardly noticed. Something about the man’s gentle, almost nervous expression, despite the way he carried himself without an inch of doubt, had Lance perking up immediately. 

“How can I help you?” Lance asked, putting on a friendly smile as the man approached the shop. 

The man returned his smile as if by instinct. “I’m looking for something to help with an iron deficiency,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “Someone suggested I could use flowers to brew a tea? Or something like that…?”

“Of course, of course, come on in. I have just the thing.” One would be surprised by how often Lance dealt with iron deficiencies in vampires. Many chose to drink synthetic blood, instead of donated blood, but without supplementing more iron into their diet, synthetic blood just wasn’t enough. Some vampires suffered from iron deficiencies when stressed or injured, too. 

His mother had been the one to start growing the flowers used in iron boosting teas. They were harvested the first time they bloomed – when their nutrients were peaking – and dried so that the petals and leaves could be steeped in hot water. He already had boxes of the brew prepared, which he offered to the vampire.

“If you have two cups a day, one with your morning meal and one with dinner, it should supplement your iron intake,” Lance said, “but it’s not a permanent fix. If it’s something ongoing, you’ll probably need doctor-recommended vitamins, but if your iron deficiency is just situational, this should fix it right up.”

The vampire gave him a relieved look. “Thank you so much. This should really help.”

Lance grinned. “No problem, it’s what I’m here for.” He wanted to say more, to keep the man talking, but for the first time he had nothing to say. Luckily for him, the vampire seemed just as keen for a conversation as Lance was.

“What flowers does this come from?” 

Lance was more than happy to explain everything to him. He gave the vampire a little tour around the shop, introducing himself as he went, and received an introduction in return – the vampire’s name was Shiro. He seemed quite intelligent, and his demeanour was very gentle. He didn’t mind that Lance chatted his ear off and went down random tangents, even though it couldn’t have been all that interesting, and Lance was very embarrassed every time he realised what he was doing.

He was almost disappointed when it came time for Shiro to leave. Other customers would begin arriving at the store soon, and he’d need to finish opening up the shop before they got there – there were still some flowers that needed to be put on display outside.

“I’ll come back again,” Shiro said, when he noticed Lance’s forlorn look; most werecats were openly expressive. Shiro pointedly showed the tea. “I’ll need a refill, right?”

“Definitely,” Lance grinned. He suddenly wasn’t so disappointed anymore.


	46. Keith/Lance/Lotor - Petulant

Lance wasn’t sure if he was relieved or horrified when he realised both of his alphas had synced up. It was something that was going to happen eventually, just as his heat would eventually sync with their ruts, but he was surprised that theirs happened first. 

He supposed that when he really thought about it, it made sense. Keith and Lotor were incredibly competitive. Insanely competitive. So competitive that Lance couldn’t keep up with them, half the time. He knew a lot of it was their alpha instincts clashing, but from what he could tell, it was never mean or aggressive. It was more like “I want that thing you have but you won’t give it to me”, or “I’m doing better than you at this, see?”

It stood to reason that their ruts syncing up was just another symptom of their competitiveness. In an instinctual, deeply rooted way, having their heats sync ensured that they had an equal chance to mate with their shared omega. If one was in rut and the other wasn’t, then the one in rut had a far higher chance of fathering offspring. Not that they were trying for children, but that wasn’t the point. None of them were on suppressants so their breeding cycles were in full swing. 

He couldn’t help but sigh to himself as he smelt the beginnings of rut on them. His heat was going to be starting soon, but not soon enough – they hadn’t quite synced yet. He took a quick stocktake of their kitchen cupboards and made a note to pick up more heat supplies. He doubted the time between their ruts and his heat would be long enough to go out.

Predictably, one of his mates came to find him not too long after he began to smell their scents. Lance was busy cooking dinner – it was his turn that night – when one of them snuck up behind him. It was Lotor, by the feel of his hands, as he gripped Lance’s hips. His hands were larger than Keith’s, his fingers long and elegant. Lotor was also quite a lot taller than Lance and Keith both. He had this way of hovering over them that Lance liked, though Keith wasn’t overly fond of it.

“Hungry yet?” Lance asked, as he tilted his head back to peer up at Lotor. “It’ll only take ten more minutes.”

Lotor hummed, and buried his nose into Lance’s hair. They were pressed together from shoulders to thighs, as much as their height difference allowed. “You smell wonderful,” he murmured.

“You always say that,” Lance said, laughing quietly. “What about dinner? How does that smell?”

“Also wonderful.”

A moment later, Keith slunk into the kitchen, a petulant scowl on his face. He looked completely miffed by the fact that Lotor had gotten to Lance first, and if the look Lotor shot Keith over Lance’s head was anything to go by, then Lance knew Lotor was completely smug about it.

“No fighting in the kitchen,” he said.

“You say that about every room,” Keith muttered.

“No posturing in the kitchen, either,” Lance continued, knowing the way his alphas had a tendency to square up when they were close to their ruts. “And no pouting, either. Makes you look too cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Keith argued, indignant. 

“You are definitely cute.” Lance flicked his gaze up to Lotor. “He’s cute, right?”

“You’re cuter,” Lotor purred, squeezing Lance’s hips.

Keith snorted. “At least that’s something we can agree on.”

Lance sighed, though he wasn’t terribly put-out. He was used to this behaviour, finding it oddly endearing. When his mates weren’t so hormonal, they got along well. The competitiveness never faded, but they loved each other – they were mates, after all. Even if it took them a while longer to love each other than it took them to love him, it didn’t change the fact that they were a triad. The bond marks on their neck said as much.

“Okay, that’s enough now,” Lance said, as he batted at Lotor’s hands. “Let me finish cooking.”

Lotor pressed a kiss to Lance’s head before conceding. 

Lance wasn’t surprised when Keith immediately took his place. He sighed, and tilted his head to the side to accommodate his clingy mate. Keith nosed at the scent glands on his neck before aggressively laying his scent all over Lance’s skin. 

When he’d had just enough time as Lotor had to paw at him, Lance brushed Keith off, and got back to cooking. Both of them sat at the kitchen table and alternated between staring at him and glowering at each other. 

He’d never get used to their antics. Lotor’s smug-but-affectionate smiling and Keith’s petulant pouting were charming parts of life he enjoyed. He wouldn’t have changed anything even if he had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't ship Keith and Lotor, so this was a bit of a challenge for me... but I love poly Lance ships, and someone who comments on these chapters frequently likes this ship, so I wanted to give it a try! I'm sure I'll grow to like it haha ^^


	47. Keith/Lance - Castle

Lance had been living in an abandoned castle for years. He wondered if it could truly be called abandoned when he lived in it, and kept it maintained. With all the hours he spent cleaning and repairing, he liked to think it was a proper home now, even if it only had one occupant.

He wasn’t sure when he’d arrived at the castle, or why. All of his memories were vague at best, covered in a mist he couldn’t dispel, no matter how hard he tried. He’d scoured the castle for clues – diaries or photos, something that could tell him about his life before he came to live here – but there was nothing. There were books and photos though, enough to fill the grand library. It’d been years and he’d hardly made a dent in the collection.

As much as he was lonely, he’d never found the strength to leave the castle grounds. Outside there was an extensive garden, one that spread for what looked like miles and miles. It had been partially overgrown when he’d woken up in his room, so after he’d cleaned the most important parts of the castle, he’d started to work on the garden. Now all the garden beds were free of weeds, and the bushes were trimmed into neat lines. When the sun was particularly warm, all of the flowers would burst into bloom. It was rather beautiful.

Beyond the garden walls was, as far as Lance could see, a forest. It was thick and dense, so much so that he couldn’t see past the tree trunks for more than a few metres. Even when Lance stood on the highest balconies in the castle, he couldn’t see an end to the forest. It sprawled out in every direction, as far as his eyes could see.

At one pointed he’d wondered if there were homes or a town someone within it. The trees were extraordinarily tall, so he wouldn’t be surprised if there were others out there. But every time he tried to venture past the castle gates, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His body would lock up, and his feet would feel as though they’d sunk knee-deep into solid stone. He couldn’t move, not even a step. The sick, shaky feeling that overwhelmed him every time he approached the gate was enough to stop him from trying too many times.

He couldn’t leave. That much was obvious.

So he spent his days entertaining himself. Reading, cleaning, cooking in a kitchen that never seemed to run out of fresh produce, sleeping – anything to keep himself occupied. After a while, it became easier. He knew he missed people, but he couldn’t remember names or faces, so the pain of being alone began to lessen.

It was storming one evening when everything changed. He was holed up in one of the dozens of reading rooms, the curtains thrown wide open so that he could watch rain pelting the glass. A book and blanket were laid across his lap. He was wrapped up in both.

Then, out of nowhere, the sound of his front door being thrown open echoed throughout the castle. He didn’t keep it locked – why should he, when no one was around but him? – but the wind outside shouldn’t have been enough to open it. 

Curious, but not overly worried, he said aside his book, folded the blanket over his arm, and made his way to the front entrance. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine to find a boy.

For what it was worth, the boy seemed just as surprised to see Lance as Lance did to see him. They stared at each other for a moment, dumbstruck, one completely dry and the other soaking wet. Lance took in the boy’s broad shoulders, his dark hair and indigo eyes. He wasn’t wearing clothes suitable for travelling, and it looked like there was a gash on his arm, one that was steadily dripping tiny drops of blood onto the floor.

“Who are you?” Lance stammered, shocked.

The boy opened his mouth, but winced in pain, his hands sliding against the wet wood of the door. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, eyes closed. Lance stared at him, aghast, before jolting forwards. 

“Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead,” he muttered, as he dragged the boy inside and forced the doors shut. He crouched on the ground and heaved the boy into his arms, using the blanket to stop the wound on him from bleeding. How did anyone find him? Lance didn’t know if he felt frightened or immensely relieved that he wasn’t alone anymore. “Who are you?”

As soon as he got the boy healthy again, he’d get his answers.


	48. Keith/Lance - Unpacking

“Lance, if you’re tired, we can just head to bed,” Keith said for what felt like the fifth time, as he absentmindedly continued to run his fingers through Lance’s short, soft hair. 

Lance, with his head in Keith’s lap, gave him a disgruntled huff. “No way! I’m not tired, not at all. I just want to lay here.”

Keith stifled a small smile. Lance had already nodded off twice that night since they’d sat down, and he was about to drift off for a third time. He was definitely tired, they both were. He’d be surprised if Lance wasn’t tired in the first place, considering that day they’d had. They’d finally finished moving all their things into their new house, furniture and all. They’d spent the better part of the morning finishing moving the smaller pieces of furniture, the bits and pieces they could carry themselves – bedside tables, footstools, the dining room chairs. That sort of thing. Movers had done the heavier stuff they couldn’t move themselves. 

The rest of the day had been spent on unpacking. Half of everything they owned was still in boxes, but this place was slowly starting to feel more like a home, even if it was a mess. They had another day of unpacking ahead of them tomorrow, and while Keith wasn’t exactly looking forwards to it, he was eager to see the house complete. Even so he just sit on the couch without having to look at boxes and know he had more work to do.

“We should go to bed,” he suggested again. He brushed Lance’s hair back from his forehead and admired the way it made Lance’s face look younger and open, like he didn’t have a single care in the entire world. He should wear his hair pushed but like that more often. 

Lance groaned. “I’m too tired to move.”

Keith snorted. “I’m not carrying you.” He was quite tired too, when it really came down to it. It wasn’t like he wasn’t strong enough to lift his boyfriend up – he most certainly was, and had done so in the past countless times – but he’d been lifting boxes all day, and just wanted to sleep. They’d set up the bedroom right after getting the kitchen done, so the bed was made and ready for them. He knew that as soon as his head hit the pillow he’d be fast asleep.

Lance only hummed at him, his eyes slipping closed again. He tilted his head into Keith’s hands, looking content. He’d always liked having his hair played with, just as much as Keith liked playing with his hair. Keith was certain that no one could ever have hair as soft as Lance’s, not with all the effort Lance took into maintaining it.

After a moment where Keith was sure Lance had fallen asleep again, Lance’s eyes snapped open, and after giving himself a little shake, and looked up at Keith with a sheepish smile. “Okay, yeah, bed sounds good. Let’s go.”


	49. Lance/Lotor - Match

“Lotor. Lotor, wake up.”

The alpha murmured quietly, his face still the picture of content sleepiness. As much as Lance wanted to admire how handsome his mate was – he was just the prettiest alpha out there, no competition – he had a pressing problem that needed to be addressed.

“Lotor,” he whined, louder. He was not above pulling on Lotor’s hair to wake him up if he didn’t open his eyes within the next minute. 

Thankfully for Lotor, he woke up, and his long, silver hair remained safe. “Lance? What is it?”

Lance bit his lip, suddenly ashamed at the way he’d frantically woken his mate. Lotor had been tired lately, caught up in work and preparing the nursery to Lance’s standards (though he always insisted he was more than happy to do so). “It’s just…”

Lotor looked at him curiously, his eyes roaming over Lance’s flushed face. He pulled Lance closer with a hand on the back of Lance’s head to scent his hair, likely looking for anything out of the ordinary. When he found nothing, he gave Lance another critical look, before asking, “Is it another craving?”

Relief crashed over Lance. “How did you know?”

The corner of Lotor’s mouth ticked up. “Call it a hunch,” he said. “Though this is not the first time you’ve woken me because our pup is demanding something. Tell me, what is it this time?”

Lance gave him a sheepish smile. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken Lotor in the middle of the night with a sudden craving and no energy to leave the bed, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Every time he’d woken his mate, he’d been met with understanding. It surprised him a little, seeing as Lotor had every right to be frustrated with him for waking him for something so trivial. But Lotor treated every part of Lance’s pregnancy as if it were something precious, or something to be proud of as his alpha – even the gross things, like the morning sickness and the mood swings. 

“You know that ice-cream we had the other night? With the little peanut bits on the outside?” Lance asked, eyes wide and hopeful. “Do we have any left?”

“I’ll check.” Lotor kissed his forehead before getting out of bed, turning his bedside lamp on as he did. Lance listened to his alpha’s soft footsteps as they padded down the stairs – with a baby bump curving his spine, Lance was fast starting to hate going up and down them. While he waited, he shifted over to Lotor’s side of the bed, where his warmth still remained. 

Eventually Lotor returned with one of the ice-creams and a bowl so that it didn’t drip anywhere. Lance practically started purring with delight as he was handed it.

“That was the last one in the box,” Lotor said, as he slipped into Lance’s side of the bed. “I’ll pick up more tomorrow.”

Lance hummed his thanks around a mouthful of ice-cream. He leaned into Lotor’s side when Lotor put an arm around him and breathed in the comforting scent of his alpha. He was sure no other alpha out there would treat him with so much consideration, even when he was being a brat. Lotor never gave made him feel guilty for things that were out of his control – like pregnancy-induced cravings. 

He didn’t regret mating Lotor. Others thought they were too different to get along, but that was only on the surface. 

In reality, he thought there was no better match for him out there. Lotor was perfect and nothing would ever convince him otherwise.


	50. Keith/Lance - Garden

Lance groaned as he heaved the pail of water out of the well. One of his many duties at the palace grounds was watering the gardens and refilling the birdbaths every day, and while he much preferred that to scrubbing floors or cleaning out the stables, the water pail could get uncomfortably heavy when it was full. 

At least he got to be outside. Some of the other servants he knew from the dorms were relegated to duties inside all day, some so deep in the palace that there was no source of natural light, just candles and torches. He would prefer to work outside than in the deep reaches of the palace walls, no matter how beautiful it was inside.

And it was very beautiful, he had to admit. Altea was a kingdom founded on strength of mind justice. The royals were beloved by the people, who they treated very well. Taxes were fair, regular festivals were held, schools and hospitals were always fully funded and fully staffed at the expense of the government. Even the servants at the palace were treated more like guests that workers. They had completely fitted dorm rooms, regularly scheduled days off, and freedom to roam all parts of the palace grounds aside from the private wing of the royal family.

Lost in thought, Lance carried the pail to the last birdbath he was filling, and let his thoughts roam. It was a nice spring day, and any moment know the royal guard would come parading through the gardens to get to the training wing, back from their daily patrols. Just thinking about them sent a little thrill through him – or at least, just thinking about one guard in particular.

Relationships between the guards and the other members of royal staff weren’t forbidden. Even though the soldiers usually married people just as wealthy as they were, it wasn’t uncommon to see people from all economic backgrounds marry. Lance, even though he was a servant from a middle-class family, was engaged to one of the knights.

He and Keith had met purely by chance. They’d both happened to be in the garden, and had literally walked right into one another around a corner. Of course, they were both quite stubborn and combative people, so neither one of them had much appreciated being knocked over. That hadn’t stopped them from running into one another again, and again, and again, though. Soon enough they were courting, and then Keith secretly asked Lance’s family for a blessing for them to wed, and he proposed. Their wedding was set for the end of spring.

The rhythmic stomping of horse hooves had Lance perking up. He left the pail by the refilled birdbath and wandered towards the row of trimmed hedges that separated the gravel road from the grassy gardens. The hedges were only waist-height, so he could easily see over them, and eagerly watched as the procession of horses approached.

Keith was near the front, like usual. He was strong, fast, and could wield a sword better than anyone else in his battalion. He always wore a serious, sombre expression when he was dressed in armour, but the moment he saw Lance waiting to greet him, his face broke into a softer, warmer expression. As he approached, he urged his horse out of line, and stooped to press a kiss to the top of Lance’s head.

“You had a safe patrol, I hope?” Lance asked.

“Of course.” Keith touched Lance’s cheek lightly, his fingers affectionate, before he straightened. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Lance smiled and nodded, waving as Keith returned to the line of soldiers. Some gave him amused looks, but they didn’t bother Keith. He never showed embarrassment about being affectionate to Lance in front of his fellow soldiers, never shied away from expressing his love. It was one of the things Lance greatly appreciated – he’d seen the way some soldiers became defensive when others jibed them about their partners, and was relieved that Keith was not one of those people.

Feeling fulfilled, Lance sighed, and returned to work. Now that he’d seen Keith he could concentrate better. The flowers weren’t going to water themselves, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an early update today because I don't know if I'll have time to write this evening aha


	51. Keith/Lance - Flare

Lance’s job brought him into contact with a surprisingly wide variety of people. He worked at the exclusive Altea lounge, where anyone of any race or gender or identity could come for a discreet drink or a quiet evening spent comforted by the luxuries Altea provided.

It was the perfect job for him. He fit in with the servers, and his talents were put to good use. Magic was accepted here. Encouraged, even. Outside of the lounge and other similar places, those with magic struggled. Non-magic people were prejudiced, even with all the social progressiveness permeating the more accepting societies. Still, not everything was perfect. Not everything was equal. Especially not for those who didn’t look like they were non-magic.

Lance was one of those people, but his magic features were easy to disguise. A long sweater and a bit of makeup under his eyes kept everything sealed away. He supposed he was lucky that his marks were so easy to hide. Those who had abnormally coloured skin or horns protruding from their foreheads or animal features like tails and whiskers had a much harder time. 

When it came down to it, though, Lance wasn’t ashamed of his marks. The ones on his face, little blue V-shapes under his eyes, were permanent. They only ever changed when he used magic, glowing bright. The ones on his arms, however, only showed up when he used magic. It would turn his veins an unnatural blue, something vibrant, like it was glowing, or glittery. It marked him as magic. 

While he worked, he always had his marks no display. He used magic on and for his patrons, making drinks to their exact tastes or soothing their moods at their request. He had interesting customers. People of all shapes and sizes.

But none quite like the one sitting in front of him.

It was a new customer, a man that looked around Lance’s age. His hair was dark, and his eyes were a strange but handsome indigo. He didn’t seem too friendly, but he’d come in with someone Lance knew well – a man named Shiro, who was friends with the owner of the lounge, Allura. 

For the most part, the man – Keith – hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary. At least no more than other handsome, mysterious patrons. Lance was a sucker for a pretty face, and he was more than happy to smile and charm those he served. It was his job. But this man was…

different. Lance made him a drink, and when he passed it over, their fingers touched. It seemed too casual, like an accident. Lance might not have even noticed if his veins hadn’t suddenly flared up, glowing even more than they did when he used magic.

It had been so sudden he’d jumped back like he’d been stung.

At least Keith seemed just as surprised. 

The sudden spike in magic drew Allura’s attention. She was always nearby, disappearing and reappearing with seamless ease. She cared for her employees with a sense of protective authority, prioritising their safety and wellbeing over her patrons (not that her patrons were ever rowdy; just her presence was enough to deter the troublemakers). Her sharp eyes kept watch over all of them, and then was no different.

“What happened?” She asked, as she watched the glow in Lance’s veins begin to settle back into its regular magic-induced hue. 

“I don’t know,” Lance said, as he held his wrist to his chest. His heart was fluttering a mile a minute, but not in a bad way. He felt like he’d been flooded with warmth. He couldn’t take his wide eyes off of Keith.

Allura gently took Lance’s wrist, tracing her fingertips over his veins. They shared a sort of connection; the marks under his eyes were the same ones under hers. Even if they didn’t share blood or the same type of magic, they at least shared that, and it made them fast friends. “It doesn’t seem harmful,” Allura murmured.

“It didn’t hurt,” Lance said. He felt oddly protective of Keith, as he glanced at Allura for a moment. “It doesn’t hurt, I mean. Just feels warm.”

Keith was staring at his fingertips. Little red flames danced between them, making his skin look magenta. He squeezed his fingers shut and for a moment they disappeared, but when he opened them again, the flames were back. He looked positively bewildered. “This doesn’t normally happen,” he said.

Allura hummed. “Perhaps you’re compatible.”

Lance’s eyebrows shut up. Compatible magic types were incredibly rare, but incredibly powerful connections. When one magic was compatible with another, they created a feedback loop of energy, one that boosted a person’s powers. Some romantics said that people with compatible magic were soulmates. He wasn’t sure if he believed that, but when he looked back at Keith and met his eyes, he was sure he felt something.

“Try again,” Allura urged him.

Curious, Lance stretched out his hand. He was surprised when Keith did the same. When their fingertips touched, the same flare up happened. Lance’s veins sprung to life, glowing bright blue, and Keith’s flickering flames engulfed his hand. The heat from them felt so familiar and soothing that Lance felt his eyes flutter. He couldn’t even be surprised that he wasn’t burned. He was completely enraptured. 

He didn’t realise he was staring until Allura smirked. “I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”


	52. Keith/Lance - Polar

The vessel crashed twelve hours ago.

As night began to fall, Lance started to grow more frustrated. His ship had crashed after unexpectedly coming into contact with rocky debris from a solar storm. His mission was meant to be for research, so his ship wasn’t equipped with strong defensive barriers or weapons. It was only for a week, so he didn’t have a lot of supplies, either. Definitely not enough now that half of the storage compartment had been crushed when the vessel hit the ground.

Could it even be called ground when it was made from pure ice?

He’d crashed onto a polar moon. It was too small to be a planet, he thought, and while he specialised in aquatic research, he sort of needed the water to be in a liquid state to be of any use.

As it was, the ice was currently his main concern. The vessel had crashed on the edge of a polar shelf, one that led to a steep drop off. He was lucky he hadn’t slid a few more meters or he would be balancing half on and half off the shelf. The crash had knocked out his communication systems too, and it had taken him a good six hours to get them turned back on. That, and the heating. He still couldn’t feel his fingers from the time when he’d been without it.

Another six hours had elapsed since he’d gotten the coms working, and he was still waiting on a signal from the base team. He’d taken stock of all the supplies he had left; he had enough food for a week, water for a few days, and maybe enough blankets and heating devices to keep the ice out and the air inside the cockpit warm enough to sustain him. 

In short, it wasn’t looking good.

He checked the com line after another hour had passed. He was making sure he didn’t hover over it, that he didn’t become obsessed. It wasn’t like constantly checking it was going to make any messages come in quicker. He was lucky that he’d gotten it working at all.

Cold, he left the quiet com line and went to wrap another blanket around his shoulders. He’d blocked off all other compartments of the ship except the cockpit hoping to keep out the cold. Any spare blankets or fabrics he’d used to seal under doorways. It helped a bit, but the cockpit was cold from the time when all power was out, and trying to combat that was causing a major struggle, not just for the ship but for him too. 

Lance sunk back into the pilot’s chair, full of restless energy. He tapped his fingers along the console and wondered what to do next. Sleep? Eat? Try the com line again? There was only so much one person could do in a tiny room like this. He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He hadn’t really been hurt in the crash, nothing more than cuts and bruises, maybe a light concussion. 

Sighing again, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. It had been a long twelve hours. He knew he probably shouldn’t sleep, but he was so tired…

The beeping of the com lines woke him up. He hadn’t even realised he’d actually fallen asleep until he’d woken up. He scrambled upright, trying to fight his way out of the blankets to answer the com. “Hello? Hello?”

“Lance!”

Lance’s heart gave a hopeful thud. “Keith…?”

“God, are you alright? Are you hurt? You’ve been offline for nearly fifteen hours!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said. Keith wasn’t his normal technician, but Lance wasn’t going to complain. Hearing his husband made some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Are you okay?”

“You’re asking me? You’re the one that crashed.” Keith’s sounded so relieved that Lance felt his heart ache. “Idiot.”

“Are you coming to get me?” Lance asked, folding over to press his forehead against the control panel. “Because I can’t fly this vessel anymore. Half of it got crushed in the impact.”

“Of course we’re coming to get you.”

Lance let out a shuddering breath. “Okay, good. It’s really bloody cold out here.”

“You are stuck on a literal ice planet.”

“Like I said, cold.”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, I bet.” For a moment he was quiet. “Not too cold? You have blankets?”

Unbidden, a smile touched Lance’s face. Just a small one. “I have enough.”

“Good.”

“How long till you get here?”

“Less than an hour. You okay to manage until then?”

If he were being honest, Lance hated the idea of spending another hour cooped up in this frozen hellhole, but he wasn’t going to say that. “I can manage.”

“Alright.”

Lance bit his lip. He wanted to be home with Keith. The only reason he’d agreed to this mission – one that separated them – was because it was meant to be short and easy. The solar storm had come out of nowhere, but he knew Keith wouldn’t have ever left him stranded. “I’m so not taking any off-world missions for a while,” he mumbled.

“I wouldn’t let you leave anyway,” Keith whispered back. 

Lance smiled again, and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. He could manage one hour. Just one more. “Will you stay? Talk to me?”

“As if you could get me to leave,” Keith said.


	53. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Rumble

Lance yawned as he rolled over in bed. It was one of those nights where he’d woken for no apparent reason, and although he was quite sleepy, he hadn’t managed to drift off again. But he was comfortable, and he felt no urge to leave the bed, so he was content to wait until he was tired enough to sleep again.

Unfortunately, it seemed his tossing and turning had woken Shiro. The alpha’s hands inched over his hip to cup the small swell of his stomach as he let out an inquisitive rumble. “Are you alright?”

Lance hummed in reply. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.” Shiro shifted closer, pulling Lance against his chest. He hooked his chin over Lance’s shoulder to peer at Keith, who still slept on the other side of him. “He’s still sleeping?”

“Yeah.” This was how it usually went. Whenever Lance woke, even if it was just to use the bathroom, Shiro would wake up, too. It was something that had started happening once they found out Lance was pregnant. Lance thought it was probably an alpha’s instincts responding to changes in his omega. Shiro was far more tuned into that sort of thing – in their little hierarchy, he ranked at the top, even above Keith, who was an alpha like him.

“What woke you up?” Shiro asked.

Lance shrugged, careful not to bump Shiro’s chin too hard. “Just woke up.” Absentmindedly, his hand strayed to his stomach. He mapped out the growing shape of his bump with his fingertips. “I feel fine.”

Shiro rumbled quietly, a low and comforting noise that reverberated through his chest. “Try and get some rest, okay? You’ll be tired in the morning otherwise.”

Lance nodded in agreement, another yawn bubbling up in him. The noises Shiro made and the way he could feel it rumbling in Shiro’s chest and through his back was making his mind drift. He could feel his eyes drooping as sleep crawled back into reach. 

He could tell that Shiro had fallen asleep again, his arm heavy around Lance’s waist, content in the knowledge that his omega was fine. Lance ran his fingers down Shiro’s arm as he waited for sleep to take him. He let his eyes wander over Keith who slept on without a care in the world, that same little frown always present in his brow, and felt a burst of affection go through him. 

Both of his mates had been very accommodating about his strange pregnancy quirks. They never complained when he abruptly scrambled over them in the middle of the night to get to the bathroom, or when he obsessively stole their clothes and got upset if they asked for them back. Once, when Lance had been unable to sleep, Keith had stayed up with him all night just to keep him company. 

Eventually, he closed his eyes, and felt sleep wash over him like a wave. He was glad to have his mates with him.


	54. Keith/Lance - Universe

“Do you think anything’s out there?” Lance asked. The cold wet of the grass was seeping through his clothes, sticking to his skin in a way he insisted was refreshing so that he didn’t start to shiver. “I mean, really? Is there something more?”

Keith was quiet for a moment. When Lance tilted his head to glance at him, Keith’s eyes were fixed on the space out beyond them, eyes roaming between what little stars they could see through the clouds. “Maybe,” he eventually said, as he folded his hands over his chest. “I don’t know if I want there to be more or not.”

It was Lance’s turn to be quiet. He tilted his head back and returned his gaze to the sky. Despite the clouds, his view of the moon was completely clear. It shone almost so brightly that night that he couldn’t bear looking at it. He wasn’t sure what it made him feel, to see something so big and far away, to think it so familiar when he’d never been further away from it. His mother always said that the moon was a guardian, that it soothed the heat of hot days and gave weary minds a break from their worries. She was a romantic at heart, no matter how much she tried not to be. She loved telling him stories that made him love the world as much as she did.

But even with the moon looking down on him, like it always did, Lance couldn’t shake his worries. They pressed on his shoulders and made his chest feel tight, and no amount of inhales could lessen its grip. He sometimes hoped that there was more out there, beyond the moon and all the stars he could see. Something that would one day offer him the comfort he so desperately wanted. 

“I want there to be more,” he said.

Keith turned to look at him. His face was only barely illuminated by the light, casting harsh shadows across his cheeks that only made him handsomer. “If you want it, then I want it too.”

“You do?”

“If it’ll make you happy,” he murmured. “I don’t know what you’re looking for out there, but I hope you find it.”

Every now and then, Keith came out with things like that. Things that made the world feel like a safer place to live. Lance reached out a hand, fingers tentatively offered, and Keith didn’t hesitate to hold them. Palms pressed together, fingers curled around fingers… there was nothing better than that. Nothing that made Lance feel more connected than Keith’s touch, and the way Keith looked at him.

Sometimes, Lance wondered if the thing he was looking for beyond the stars was actually right beside him all along. It certainly felt like it, in moments like that. When they allowed the quiet to seep in, when they shared small moments, like lying on night-damp grass to look at a cloudy sky as if all the stars were visible… it made the daylight seem less scary. Like as long as he had these moments, as long as he tucked them away somewhere he’d never lose them, then everything would be okay. He could face down a hurricane and win.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for either,” Lance said. Secretly, he thought he’d already found it, but he said, “Maybe it’s aliens,” and delighted in the small, snorting laugh Keith made.

“Aliens, huh? I bet you’d think they’re hot.”

“They’d totally be hot.”

“Uh huh.”

Lance grinned. 

Keith grinned back.

And suddenly, nothing felt wrong in the universe.


	55. Lance/Shiro - Ease

“God, I feel awful,” Lance whined, his voice croaky and pitched as he shivered. It was a cold night, certainly, and the fact that he was crouched on the tiled floor of the bathroom probably wasn’t helping.

Shiro rubbed his back, frowning. He let his palm glide down Lance’s spine and wondered if there was more he could do to ease his poor mate’s suffering. He’d already given Lance the best medication he could handle, and their bed was piled with blankets and hot water bottles alike to help ease Lance’s discomfort. 

Being pregnant was certainly proving to be a challenge.

The doctor had told them that Lance’s morning sickness – if it could still be called that when it bothered him all hours of the day and night – would pass after a few weeks, or that there were ways to ease it, but nothing had worked. Like clockwork Lance was woken at least once a night with a desperate need to throw up everything in his stomach. 

After dry heaving one last time, Lance straightened, his cheeks flushed an unhealthy red. “Gross,” he muttered, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“Feeling better?”

“Sort of.”

“Think you’re going to throw up again?”

Lance thought for a moment. “Not that there’s anything left in my stomach, but no, I think I’m good. It’s so cold in here.”

Shiro frowned again, feeling that same spark of worry stir up in him. He closed the toilet lid and flushed it before helping Lance stand. Lance was wobbly on his feet, his legs aching from being crumpled on the floor as they always did, but Shiro was easily strong enough to keep him upright. He hovered as Lance brushed his teeth and washed his face, eager to remove any traces of sick from himself.

“Better?” Shiro asked again, as Lance finished by scrubbing a little hand towel over his face.

“Much,” Lance said with a long, content sigh. He rubbed a hand over his stomach, where only the smallest swell was visible. “Can’t wait for this phase to be over.”

Shiro couldn’t help but agree. He hated seeing his omega so uncomfortable, and the fact that he couldn’t do much to ease his distress made him very anxious. Still, if getting up and remaining by Lance’s side while he went through the motions of sickness comforted him, he would do that. Sometimes Lance was too exhausted afterwards to even stand and Shiro hated the thought of him being all alone in the bathroom. There was no way he could remain sleeping.

“Back to bed, I think,” Lance finally decided. He allowed himself to be shuffled out of the room and tucked back into bed with half a dozen blankets. Shiro joined him after turning off the lights, pulling Lance closer as gently as he dared. “Thank you again,” Lance murmured, as he rested his head against Shiro’s chest.

Shiro hummed, pressing a loving kiss to Lance’s forehead. “Get some rest.”


	56. Keith/Lance - Protective

Keith was nervous. Not the type of nervous that had his palms sweating, like what he’d experienced when he’d first asked Lance to bond with him, or when he’d realised that Lance had given him permission to share his heat. It also wasn’t the type of nervous he’d faced when he’d taken his final exams. 

No, this was worse. Much worse.

He didn’t really get along with his parents. His dad was always working and his mother had left when he was a few years old. For the most part, he’d grown up with Shiro – a close friend – and his family. As Keith had grown up and become older, his parents had made an effort to be in his life again, but it was still strained. They didn’t understand that he was an adult now, and that he didn’t need them to parent him. 

And they didn’t like his mate.

Maybe that was a little unfair. It wasn’t that they didn’t like Lance, they just didn’t know him. Which was their own fault for making no effort to be involved in their son’s life, but that was another problem altogether. Keith was incredibly protective of Lance, and he was frustrated that his parents weren’t making an effort to know him, not even a little. It was like they were jealous of Lance’s place in his life, like they thought the amount of love Keith had for Lance left none remaining for them. Lance was just perfect for him – stubborn, comforting, strong. He didn’t let Keith walk over him and always pulled Keith back to himself when his instincts tried to run away. And Lance was gorgeous. Keith had never met anyone with bluer eyes.

When it came down to it, Keith thought that his parents should have respected Lance, even without meeting him, just on the basis that Keith loved him. They were bonded for life, and had been together for years. Nothing would change that, not even their sour opinions.

The only thing that would change if they kept it up was their role in his life. They would become nothing to him. He had enough friends and people he considered family to feel secure, like he had a safety blanket. He didn’t need more, even if some small part of him still ached for their affection. 

The day his parents planned to visit, Lance was ill. He’d been up half the night in the bathroom, heaving over the toilet hard enough to make Keith’s gut wrench in sympathy. Keith had stayed by his side the entire time, reluctant to leave his omega alone. Now Lance, who had had a cup of honey tea and some dry crackers to soothe his stomach, was sleeping on the couch. Keith had changed the bed sheets so they’d feel fresh when Lance went to bed in the evening and spent the remainder of the morning cleaning.

He was worried about Lance, even though he knew there was nothing he could do to ease this sort of illness. Instead he hovered, tucking in Lance’s blanket when he shifted in his sleep and making sure nothing disturbed him. He’d wanted to reschedule the visit from his parents, but Lance had convinced him not to. He’d been sure he would wake before they arrived, but when Keith heard their car pull into the driveway, he decided not to rouse Lance. He needed all the rest he could get.

Spending time with his parents was… awkward. Keith didn’t know what kind of relationship they had, but his mother shared his stubborn temper, and his father was sometimes so laid back and broodingly silent Keith wasn’t sure if he was still awake or not.

“It’s good to see you again,” Krolia said, as Keith led them into the kitchen. Her sharp eyes surveyed the room like she was giving it a grade and it made Keith tense. “Where’s your… mate?”

Keith breathed in through his nose once. She had this way of pausing before she said “mate” that had his hackles rising. “He’s ill,” Keith said. He slid two mugs of tea across the table as passively as he could manage. “Lance is sleeping, so we have to be quiet.”

Krolia frowned.

Keith frowned too, eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure that’s fine,” his father said. He hated tea, but took a sip anyway, tipping his chin towards Keith. “Thanks for the drink.”

The tension in Keith’s shoulders eased. “It’s fine.” Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful after all.

Of course, he shouldn’t have expected much.

For a while, they talked quietly. Their conversation was simple, stuck on safe topics like work and whatever had been on the news the previous night. Keith asked about what his parents had been up to recently, and spoke of his own recent endeavours. Most of what he spoke about involved Lance. They didn’t work at the same place, but they were together so often that Keith couldn’t help but speak about him.

Maybe it was because Krolia was an alpha, but she always became uneasy when Lance was mentioned. She and his father had never bonded, and Keith had no idea if she’d ever been with an omega, since his father was a beta. But her tense shoulders and frowns made Keith feel aggravated.

“Shouldn’t he be here instead of sleeping?” Krolia asked disdainfully. “Why are we stuck in the kitchen?”

Keith clenched his hands, but softened his fingers after a moment. “He’s sick,” he repeated.

Krolia frowned again.

“It is a bit… impolite,” his father added, though he didn’t seem as put-off as Krolia did. “I mean, we did come to see you Keith, but him too.”

Keith thought that was reasonable enough, and he liked that his father was trying to be calm, but he was struggling to keep his alpha instincts under control. He clashed more with Krolia than he did with his father. “I know, but he’s sick,” Keith said. “You know he’d be here if he was feeling better.”

“Do we?” Krolia asked. “Do we know that? We hardly know him at all.”

“Not my fault you haven’t been around,” Keith snarled, before he could help himself. He sucked in a deep breath and lowered his voice. “You need to understand that Lance will always be my first priority, and the one person I will readily give up anything for. Even you.”

“How can you say that?” Krolia demanded. “We’re your parents. Your blood.”

“Correct me, but didn’t you walk out on me when I was just a kid?” Keith argued. “Me and Dad?”

“Keith…” 

“No, Dad, it’s true.” Keith clenched his fists again, mouth twisted into a scowl. “And don’t take this as me favouring you, because you left me just as much as she did.”

“That isn’t fair and you know it,” Krolia snapped. “You don’t understand anything about the circumstances we faced.”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” Keith snarled. “Even if I don’t understand it, I know I would never, ever leave my child! Not my child, and not my omega. You act like I should pick you over my bonded mate!”

“That isn’t true, Keith,” his father said.

But Keith wasn’t having any of it. He kept his voice even as he said, “This relationship you expect from me is never going to happen if you don’t start to respect Lance, and I mean right now. He is my mate just as much as I am his. That isn’t ever going to change.”

“He’s just some omega,” Krolia said. “He’s not your blood. He didn’t raise you. Who’s to say that the bond won’t break somewhere down the line?”

“I am!” Keith snarled again, his voice coming out high and dangerous, shredded by the anger burning his throat. “I am saying it right now! He is perfect in every way and the fact that you can’t just be glad I’ve found someone who loves me as much as he does says everything I need to know about you.”

A wobbly voice interrupted their argument. “Keith?”

Keith’s spine went rigid as his head whipped towards the kitchen door, the one that headed into the lounge room. 

“Keith, I think I’m–”

He’d grabbed the large bowl they kept under the sink and dashed from the room before Lance could finish his sentence. He found his omega sitting up on his elbows on the couch, the blanket halfway towards his legs. He looked pale and lunged for the bowl the moment Keith was in reach, jerking it under his face as he retched several times. Keith’s heart thudded around his ribcage as he rumbled into Lance’s hair, holding the bowl steady for him. Nothing came out, but Lance’s heaving shook his whole body.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, when Lance turned his tired eyes up on him. 

“No,” Lance croaked. “I feel sick.”

Keith smoothed his hair down. “How long have you been awake?”

Something sore flittered through Lance’s eyes, just for a moment. “A few minutes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to listen…”

“It’s not your fault, don’t apologise,” Keith said. He could deal with his anger towards his parents later; right now, Lance needed him. “Do you want to go sit in the bath for a while? Warm up a bit?”

Lance nodded. He grabbed Keith’s arm before Keith could move away. “Are you alright, though?”

Keith tried not to smile. Of course, even after all the shit Lance had heard from his parents, he’d still be more worried about Keith than himself. “I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”

“I love you too,” Lance said.

“Alright.” Keith set the bowl down and gently eased one of Lance’s arms around his shoulders, his face set with determination. “Let’s get you to the bathroom, and then I’ll send my parents off. You’re too sick for visitors today.”

“I didn’t even say hello.”

“I’ll pass on the message.” He wouldn’t. His parents had done nothing to deserve Lance’s kindness.

As Lance stood, the blanket fell away from his legs, exposing the soft but unmistakeable curve between his hips. Keith’s eyes lingered, one arm dropping around Lance’s waist so he could feel out the bump with his fingertips. 

He’d meant it when he’d said he’d never leave his child. _Never._

As they passed the kitchen doorway, Keith’s eyes met Krolia’s. Her face was twisted with thinly concealed surprise. Her eyes darted between Lance’s baby bump and Keith’s furiously protective glare before fixing elsewhere. 

She’d never be able to understand just how much Keith loved Lance. Loved their unborn child. Nothing in the entire world could compare to the way he felt for his little family. When Lance had told him he was pregnant, he’d cried, something that he never did. He’d been so overwhelmed by a tender feeling of pure delight that he hadn’t known what to do with himself.

He helped Lance up to the bath and ran it for him to clear his mind. When Lance sunk beneath the water, he let himself cradle his precious mate for a moment, his mouth pressed to the top of Lance’s head. “I love you so much,” he murmured.

Lance’s fingers traced over his arm. “I know,” he whispered. “I always know, Keith. I love you too, no matter what. You and baby.”

Keith smiled, eyes closed with relief. Lance was everything to him, and always would be.


	57. Keith/Lance - Silver

The sharp crack of tree branches splintering as bullets burst through them shattered Lance’s eardrums. He jerked as if he’d been hit, feet stumbling, but remained upright. The forest was dark, the undergrowth thick with tangled, knotted roots and debris from higher boughs. Another sailed by his ear, glinting silver in the low light of the moon.

Silver.

A shudder raked down Lance’s spine. He pushed his legs faster, thin branches whipping at his face as he crashed clumsily through the trees. Every muscle in him was burning, but it was nothing compared to the scrape on his shoulder, where one of the bullets had grazed him. It had cut straight through his jacket to skin, spreading its poisonous rash through his veins. The entire wound throbbed as if he’d been cut open to the bone, the pain gaping and wide. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingertips.

All because of a scrape from silver.

Another bullet snapped through the air. He could hear the hounds behind him, the ones trained to follow his scent – the scent of people like him. Their handlers were hot on his heels, guns ready, stocked full of bullets that could down him in an instant. He’d been running for what felt like hours but they were gaining on him. The way their bullets shook the air around him was testimony enough to that.

Then, out of nowhere, a new scent reached Lance’s nose. It almost knocked him off his feet. It was the scent of someone like him, but something about it was different. It was thicker, and it wormed its way into his nose more than any other ever had. It was almost… addicting. Lance could instantly tell that this was marked territory, that he had no right to enter it without permission, but the rain of bullets behind him made the decision for him.

Entering another wolf’s territory was like breaking into a person’s home and rearranging all their furniture. Lance had never staked out a territory of his own, but he’d heard about territory wars from other wolves, had heard how bloody they could get. But between another wolf and a pack of hunters, he’d take the wolf every day. He might not die from that. Hunters would stop at nothing to tear his head off.

Another branch splintered by his head. Lance cried out as a bullet ripped through his calf. It was only a superficial wound, barely any deeper than the one on his shoulder, but it burned so badly he went sprawling to the ground. A high-pitched yelp left his lips, too animal to be human.

But he wasn’t entirely human, was he?

The sounds of the hounds increased. Lance tried to scramble to his feet, but his leg ached something fierce, and he could only groan in pain. He couldn’t stand. Panic flared in him, rotten and scared. He scrambled upright, fingers clawing at tree roots and dead leaves. The night was so cold that everything was covered in a layer of wet.

Out of nowhere, a deep howl echoed through the woods. Lance stilled, his heart thumping wildly. His eyes scanned the trees, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. Something lurched out from between trees, as tall as a grown man. It was a wolf, its head low, fangs bared. Lance froze, eyes wide. The wolf was bigger than any Lance had ever seen, his fur deep black, eyes so dark they looked indigo. The moment that steely gaze fell on him, Lance felt something inside him… spark.

The wolf evidently did, too. It flicked its ears forwards, its angry growls lessening. It took one step towards Lance, nose sniffing the air.

Lance shouted as a bullet grazed his thigh, inches lower than the previous wound. He hunched in on himself, a spasm wracking his body. 

The wolf let out a thundering snarl. It pounded forwards, leaping over him to disappear into the trees. Lance’s head followed it. Confused, he tried to stand, but no part of him would cooperate. 

Screams and rapid gunfire broke the silence of the wood. Lance flinched when a howl cut off the screams, followed by snarls. Then nothing. Lance tried to still his breaths, quieting his pants, but he couldn’t hear anything. Eventually the sound of soft padding reached his ears. He hardly breathed as the wolf returned, its fur ruffled.

There wasn’t a mark on it.

Lance didn’t have the breath to plead for his life. He tried not to cower as the wolf inched closer. Lance could read wolf body language just as easily as he could read humans, and nothing about the wolf was screaming danger to him. When it ducked its head to sniff at Lance’s leg, growling softly at the scent of silver, Lance didn’t feel frightened. He waited until the wolf had finished scenting him before trying to sit up again. The pain crippled him, but the wolf whined softly, nudging its nose under Lance’s arm.

Did it want to help him?

He couldn’t deny that he felt a connection to the wolf. It went beyond anything he’d ever felt before. When the wolf whined at him, rubbing against his side, he carefully put his arm over its back. The wolf growled softly, so he lifted both hands, gripping fistfuls of its thick fur. When the wolf stood, bringing Lance up with it, Lance barely muffled his pained whimper. The wolf shifted its shoulders, helping Lance clamber up onto its back.

By the time he actually got up there, he was exhausted. He slumped against the wolf’s back and buried his face in the fur between his shoulder blades. Somehow he knew this wolf wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, he was sure he’d never felt safer in his entire life, silver injuries or not. When the wolf noticed his waning strength, it started to let out little, comforting rumbles, ones that reverberated through his back.

Lance fell asleep like that.


	58. Keith/Lance - Ladybugs

Lance could hear the ladybugs chattering away in the tall grass. It was the time of year when they were everywhere, flitting about from plant to plant with the stumbling grace only their species could pull off. He liked the bugs, even if others found them annoying. 

He watched with amused eyes as a ladybug spiralled through the air before coming to land directly on Keith’s cheek. It was so funny that he couldn’t muffle his laughter. “You have a–” he gasped out between giggles.

Keith rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look terribly upset. He didn’t really like ladybugs, something he’d mentioned in the past, but he didn’t hate them. In situations like this, however, when they were outside and the weather was nice, it was impossible to avoid them. At least they were harmless. 

“There’s one on my face, isn’t there?” Keith asked, amused. He lifted a hand to his cheek and patiently waited until the ladybug had crawled onto his finger before letting it fly away. “God, they’re everywhere today.”

“No different from last week,” Lance pointed out. 

Keith rolled his eyes, but it was true. When they’d snuck away from class last this time last week, the weather had been just as nice, and the wildlife had been out in full force. It hadn’t bothered Keith then, either. Lance liked to think he wasn’t bothered because he was there. This was one of the only times when Keith let his guard down, when it was just them. They didn’t often get time alone.

Mostly because no one knew they were together.

Technically, students weren’t _meant_ to be together. Fraternizing was prohibited. Males and females were kept in separate dorm wings to dissuade relationships from forming, but that didn’t do much when the students were gay. Or bi, in Lance’s case. Either way, relationships weren’t looked upon positively, and if anyone found out they were together, they’d be in a lot of trouble. 

But it wasn’t like they’d purposefully started breaking rules to be together. It had just… happened. For the most part, he and Keith hadn’t even liked each other. They’d argued at every turn. Somewhere along the way that had changed, though, and now they were where they were. No one knew. They still bickered. Most people still believed it was unfriendly, but Lance knew better. He knew that Keith was never malicious when they argued, that it was just their stubborn personalities. It wasn’t a competition between them anymore, even if they were the only two to know that.

Hopefully one day, when they’d left the Garrison, they’d be able to be together properly. For now that was a dream. They snuck around together whenever they could, holding hands under tables where no one could see and sharing a bed for a few stolen hours a day when one of their roommates was out. When they could manage it, they shirked off classes (as most students did when they had pointless study hours) to make it out to the grassy fields beyond the school fence. If anyone happened to walk by, they’d duck beneath the tall grass and muffle their breathless laughter into their hands.

Even if they only had moments like this together, where time was borrowed and they had to hide, Lance still loved it. He’d never met anyone like Keith, or anyone who made him feel like Keith did. They were competitive but equals, and it was as thrilling as it was comforting. 

So even if they had to hang out with the ladybugs to be together, it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to the Sydney Writer's Festival today and got to meet a few of my favourite authors - Patrick Ness and Jay Kristoff. It was a really fun experience, and it gave me a lot of motivation to write! ^^


	59. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Watchful

Lance was four months pregnant when someone broke into the house.

He didn’t wake up when the initial break-in happened. Sandwiched between his two alphas like he was, he hardly woke up for anything. Unless it was his bladder calling. Point was, he didn’t wake up until Shiro jolted from the bed, a harsh growl tearing through him. It was his – and Keith’s – sudden spike of aggression that sent Lance flying upright, his instincts so in tune with theirs that he was immediately roused from sleep. He could smell their anger like it was palatable, settling on his tongue like something sour and dense.

“Stay here,” Shiro snarled at Keith, eyes flashing in the low, pale moonlight coming in from the gap in the curtains. 

Keith’s hands had already found Lance’s waist, pulling him close. He was rumbling deeply, his grip almost bruising, posture just as rigid as Shiro’s. He didn’t look very happy about being told to stay, but his instinct to protect his omega overrode that. He didn’t move an inch.

Lance couldn’t help but respond to them, pulse jumping. A frightened, omega scent began to bleed through the room, making his alphas’ scents ramp up several possessive notches. Keith furiously scented Lance’s hair, rubbing his cheek all over Lance’s neck and shoulders. His hands strayed to the slight curve of Lance’s stomach, gentler, but no less protective.

“What’s going on?” Lance whispered, eyes darting to Keith. He couldn’t smell anything over Shiro’s scent, which was starting to overwhelm all others, even Keith’s. His fingers nervously found Keith’s hands, squeezing them.

“Window smashed,” Keith bit out. He shuffled Lance behind him, arms tense. “Shiro will fix it, trust him. It’s fine.”

Lance bit his lip. If he listened hard enough he could hear noises coming from downstairs, but Keith quickly covered his ears with his hands, urging Lance to press his face against the crook of his neck. He could hear his rabbiting heartbeat more clearly with everything else blocked out. If he concentrated, Keith’s low growling became the only thing he could hear.

Moments later, and Shiro returned. He looked ruffled and unhappy, his eyes still dark, scent still prickling. Lance peered up at him with a nervous, worried expression.

“It’s fine,” Shiro said. His face softened as he shut the bedroom door most of the way. He leaned over the bed to kiss Lance’s forehead, and then Keith’s. “It’s taken care of.”

Lance shifted uneasily, his fingers flexing around Keith’s. His gaze flickered between Keith and Shiro, but he didn’t have anything to say.

The police arrived a little while later to apprehend the guy who had broken in. It turned out to be a very inebriated alpha who had a bit of a history of breaking into houses and harassing omegas. Lance was paranoid that the alpha had been drawn by his scent – particularly feral alphas had been known to go after pregnant omegas, especially back in the very, very old days when omegas had no rights. Something about their scents made unmated, feral alphas go crazy.

That wasn’t to say the alpha that had broken into – or tried to break into – their house was feral. He’d probably just been incredibly drunk, and a little too on the aggressive side. But it made Lance uneasy to know that someone had gotten into their house so easily, and that he’d slept through the sound of the window shattering. 

He had a baby to protect.

His mates could tell he was upset, even the next day. Keith fixed the window while Shiro changed the locks on the front door, just to appease Lance. He followed them from room to room, reluctant to be on his own. Thankfully, his mates had no intention of leaving him, even as the next evening rolled around.

“I can tell you’re worried,” Shiro whispered, as they went to bed that evening. The house had been locked up under Lance’s watchful eyes, and their bedroom door was neatly closed. Lance had clambered into bed, closely followed by his mates, one on each side.

“Just a little,” Lance admitted. He pulled the covers up to his chin and curved into Keith’s chest, sighing when Keith’s arms automatically curled around him. “As long as you don’t leave the bed I’ll be fine.”

Keith snorted. “As if we’d leave.” He nosed along the back of Lance’s neck. “Don’t be worried. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”

The confidence in Keith’s voice eased Lance’s worries. He sighed again, sinking into the mattress, boneless. Shiro tucked the covers over them, putting an arm over Lance to reach Keith. He tucked Lance’s head under his chin. “Keith is right,” he soothed, tucking a hand between them to map out the shape of Lance’s stomach. “Neither one of us would ever let anything happen to you, or the baby. I feel like we’ve mentioned this before, but,” he paused, smiling to himself, and pressed a kiss to Lance’s forehead, “you are the most precious thing to us. You always will be.”

Keith rumbled in agreement. “You and the baby.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile. “You too,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Either of you.”

“Good thing we’ll always be here, then,” Shiro said. He stroked a hand over Lance’s stomach before returning it to Lance’s waist. “Get some rest, now. Everything will be fine.”


	60. Lance/Shiro - Mine

An abandoned wolf was a dead wolf. This was a fundamental rule, the truth of their culture: a wolf could not survive without a pack, and without a pack, a wolf was not a wolf. Strength was found in numbers, in bonds. 

And forging those bonds was an omega’s privilege.

Contrary to popular belief, it was the omega that ran the pack. Of course, alphas were the primary protectors, the ones who issued the battle orders and kept all pack members in line. They had physical strength that rivalled all others, and a voice that registered at a level that commanded obedience. 

But it was the omega who choose the alpha. Who decided which wolf was pack, and which wolf wasn’t. The omega could control the alpha, and therefore the entire pack. While packs could consist of several betas and alphas, there was usually only ever one omega. 

Lance hadn’t built a pack of his own yet. He’d only been on his own for a little while, and before he could even think about pack members, he needed territory. He’d found a nice little place where he could comfortably live with any future pack members he had, with a nice section of the forest all to himself. He was close to the sea, and had plenty of room to run.

Plenty of room to run into other people, too.

The moment he heard a howl in his territory, he knew something was wrong. Wolves didn’t stray into claimed omega territory unless they had a damn good reason, or they were looking for a fight. He’d been out in the forest before he’d had a chance to think rationally, shifting to his wolf form to run faster. 

Trees rushed by in a blur. He scented the air as he moved, ears perked high as he tested the reach of his senses, pushing them to the boundary of his territory. He could hear howls and snarls coming from the eastern edge, where his territory bordered another omega’s. He tried not to stray near it, and never pushed it to claim more for himself because he didn’t have a pack and that omega did. 

Another pitched howl pierced the air. Now that he was closer he could pick out the distinct tenor of an alpha. Something in Lance snarled at the voice, but not because he was angry, but because he _wanted._

That alpha was _his._

He pushed his legs to go faster, flying over fallen boughs and trunks, whipping past trees so fast they were nothing but green and brown blurs. Soon enough scents started to filter through the air, several that he didn’t recognise. One was certainly the alpha, and the others were probably from a neighbouring territory. Problem was they were coming into Lance’s territory, and lone omega or not, he wasn’t going to stand for that.

He found the wolves in a wide clearing that was most certainly in his territory. A warning snarl tore through him as he burst through the trees, hackles raised. The first thing he saw was the alpha – a big black wolf with a white streak on his head and a deep scar across his nose. One of his front legs was badly scarred up, too, so much so that Lance was momentarily surprised the leg had survived whatever attack had left it that way. The alpha had his back to Lance, head low and threatening. 

Something about him, even just the sight of him, made Lance’s instincts scream _mine._

Angrily, he stormed through the clearing, leaping right over the top of the alpha to land between him and the intruding pack. There were only three members, two betas and the omega, and they didn’t seem happy to see him. But this was his territory, and if they’d chased an alpha into it, then it was Lance’s decision what to do with him.

He snarled as the omega approached, testing his resolve. Lance wasn’t afraid to lash out – he lunged forwards, snapping his teeth. The rival omega’s betas growled, but Lance silenced them with a snarl. He could take on betas. They weren’t as physically strong as alphas, often evenly matched or even weaker than omegas. And considering they’d trespassed, he had every right to challenge them.

The rival omega seemed to sense that Lance wasn’t in a forgiving mood. She snarled and snapped at Lance, teeth bared, but the way her ears were pinned back betrayed her unease. When he lunged again, intending to strike, she wisely skittered away, her body low to the ground. 

Lance growled once more, a final warning, and she was gone.

He waited until he could no longer hear their paws thundering through his territory before he eased off on the growling. It took a moment for the tension to begin to ebb away. Fights between omegas could be brutal and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one, even if he was in the right about starting it.

When he turned around, the alpha was still there. He was crouched low, ears bent back; non-threatening. He looked tired and sore, and he was leaning heavily on the front paw that wasn’t scarred. Looking at him, straight into his brown eyes, Lance was once again struck with that possessive, instinctual feeling of _mine._ It was so strong he almost felt knocked off his feet.

After taking a moment to compose himself, and to see if the alpha would run, he approached. He dipped his head once, timid and beckoning, and still the alpha remained. He had clearly run from the other packs in the area, but he seemed to have no intention of running from Lance, and that alone left Lance oddly thrilled.

He growled a little, questioning, waiting for the alpha to do something, and stepped closer to dip his head again. Inviting, this time.

The alpha’s eyes darted down to his leg – pointing out his weakness, saying he wasn’t strong enough to be a good pack alpha. But Lance knew that couldn’t be true. If the leg was still injured, there was no way he’d be able to outrun another pack. This alpha was clearly built well, more than a head taller and almost twice as broad as Lance. He looked strong. And ridiculously pretty. And he smelt good.

Lance wanted him so bad.

He’d never felt this way.

So he made that inviting noise again, crouching low to the ground, leaving himself open. The alpha could leave if he wanted. Lance wouldn’t follow. But he could stay, too.

After a hesitant moment, the alpha inched closer, nose curiously sniffing the air. He crouched low as well, extending his injured leg, eyes full of worry. They were close now, close enough for Lance to press his nose to the alpha’s injured leg. He sniffed for injuries, for bruises or blood, but found none. It was an old wound, several years healed at least. It didn’t bother him.

Curious to see how accepting this alpha was of him, he pressed closer, nudging his head under the alpha’s. He stiffened for a moment but ultimately relaxed when Lance rumbled, nosing around the thick fur of his neck and scruff. Tentatively, oh so tentatively, the alpha returned the playful gesture, nudging along the top of Lance’s head with gentle touches.

Lance was delighted. This alpha would do perfectly, he thought. To start his pack. It would mean he wouldn’t be alone anymore, that he’d have company, that he’d finally start forging bonds and growing in strength…

God, how he wanted that.

Wanted it so much he let out excited, childish yips and climbed all over the alpha before he’d even left a mark on him. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop the excitement from spilling over into his scent. His only consolation was that the alpha couldn’t stop his own scent from broadcasting his relief and his increasing happiness, one Lance knew had to come from being so excitedly claimed by an omega. 

Realistically, he knew an injury like the one he’d so easily overlooked would put off other omegas.

But Lance really didn’t care. All he cared about was the connection he felt to this alpha, the one that had sparked before he’d even laid eyes on him. This is what he wanted, this feeling of togetherness. 

And he knew the alpha wanted it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in a bit of a werewolf mood this past week, so I apologise for the recent influx of werewolf stories haha


	61. Keith/Lance - Hiking

“This is totally your fault.”

“You are literally the one that tripped over.”

“You made me come out here.”

“It’s not my fault that you weren’t looking where you were going. You tripped over your own damn feet.”

Lance huffed, silent for a moment. “It is your fault.”

Keith groaned, sounding aggravated and winded. “And tell me, how exactly is it my fault that you tripped?”

Lance thought it was simple. “I wasn’t looking where I was going because I was looking at you.”

Keith paused, one foot braced against the tree root he was about to step over. Then he let out a grunt, and kept walking. “That’s a stupid thing to do.”

A triumphant grin spread across Lance’s face. He tightened his arms around Keith’s neck, pressing their cheeks together. They were both sweaty but Keith was worse – he’d been carrying Lance on his back up this hill for at least twenty minutes now, and it definitely couldn’t have been easy. Even if Lance weighed less than him, despite being two inches or so taller, he was still a fully grown man. Keith’s muscles must have been aching by now.

But he didn’t complain.

Lance figured he must have been quite spooked when Lance toppled off the edge of the embankment they’d been walking across. This date had been Keith’s idea – hiking to a lookout with a spectacular view for a light lunch and an easy day out. It sounded nice, even if Lance was more of a beach guy. He hadn’t even noticed when the soil had started to crumble away until he was falling head-over-heels down the incline.

Luckily, nothing more than his ankle (and his pride) had been hurt. But he couldn’t walk, and since they were closer to the lookout than the car, they’d decided to carry on. Flat ground was easy for Lance to hobble over, but a hill? Not happening. Hence why he was on Keith’s back.

He knew Keith was a bit upset. He didn’t like it when Lance got hurt, never had. Even things as simple as papercuts or accidental bruises made Keith bristle with anxious protectiveness. A sprained ankle must have been sending him haywire. Lance, thankfully, knew just how to make him happy again.

“See, it was totally your fault,” he said, grinning brightly. “You’re too attractive. Totally distracted me. I completely _fell_ for you.”

Keith snorted. “Uh huh.”

“Get it? Because I fell.”

“I get it Lance.” The corner of Keith’s mouth had twitched up into a smile he tried to hide, but Lance could hear it in his voice. “No more falling, though.”

“I don’t know, you going to get any less attractive soon?”

“I’m sweaty and covered in dirt. What’s so attractive about that?”

“Maybe I like my men covered in sweat.” Truthfully, it was a little disgusting, but Lance didn’t mind too much.

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe it’s just you,” he said.

The tips of Keith’s ears reddened, and Lance knew he’d won. “Uh huh.”


	62. Keith/Lance - Seashell

Keith reluctantly allowed Kolivan to weave a braid behind his left ear, pulling most of the hair there away from the side of his face. It left him feeling oddly exposed. Without his mask his eyes were left bare, hidden only partially by the long strands that swept across his face, and without those, everything was on display. Kolivan had always said he was too emotional, that his eyes hid nothing no matter how much he wished them to.

“It’s necessary,” Kolivan grunted, when he caught sight of Keith’s stormy, uncomfortable expression. “And temporary. Do not unravel it.”

Even though he desperately wanted to, to at least afford himself some sort of feigned privacy, Keith knew he wouldn’t. To them, braids spoke words that dress and jewellery couldn’t. Their culture found importance in braids, in their specific weave and their placement. This one – three stands, behind the left ear, clasped with an ornate red bead – symbolised Keith’s betrothal.

It was arranged. Anyone who knew him knew it was unlikely he’d ever manage to win someone’s heart, not only because he was intricately involved in the fighting forces, but because he was oblivious and sharp-tongued, too single-minded to notice when an affectionate eye strayed his way. To put it simply, he wasn’t good at socialising, and had no intention of fixing that.

He didn’t resent the arrangement, though. It was advantageous. The people from the firelands – him – and the people from the waterlands – his betrothed – had been subject to tense bonds for decades, and this wedding was hoped to forge a closer bond between the two. If war ever came back to the continent and they joined forces, they’d be entirely unstoppable. An arranged marriage between two of the highest ranking members of each culture was sure to bring them closer.

He’d been assured that his betrothed was close to his age, that they would be a good match for each other. Meetings had been held between the leaders of their people, his generals and his betrothed’s parents, in order to justify the arrangement. None had protested it, in the end. Keith had known the generals, including Kolivan, for most of his life, so he trusted their judgement. When it really came down to it though, he wasn’t too bothered by thoughts of his betrothed. Children were not an issue, and they’d only have to get along in public. He felt no pressure to form any sort of relationship with the man he was meant to marry.

Of course, those thoughts changed the instant he laid eyes on his betrothed.

Their first meeting was scheduled to take place in the waterlands. Keith, his generals, and a progression of important delegates and guards made their way to the waterlands in order to arrange the wedding ceremony. Once Keith had been done up, dressed in light, ornamental armour with his braid in place, they’d headed for the palace.

“How will I know who he is?” Keith asked, after it was revealed that the gathering had already begun in the palaces biggest courtyard, where waterways created shimmering patterns on the tiled ground that could only be seen from fenced balconies on the stories above. That was where they walked now, staying away from the fence to hide in the shadows. The afternoon sun was still bright, shining on the wide, open space the courtyard made in between the palace wings.

“You’ll know,” Kolivan said.

And he did. He, Kolivan, and his guards approached the staircase that led down to the ground floor with silent footsteps. Keith was hesitating, not nervous but stubborn. He wanted to see how many people had gathered before he descended down into the fray to find his betrothed. Socialising really wasn’t a favourite pastime of his.

A sea of bright blue clothes met his eyes, soft and flowy, transparent in some places and incredibly form-fitting in others. It was so starkly different from the hard, form-fitting lines of the armour his people usually wore, so different from the deep reds and blacks they favoured, that he was momentarily stunned. The water people wore intricate crowns around their brows made of pale flowers and seashells; some wore similar jewellery in their ears, bangles on the wrists, bands around their ankles. Many were barefooted. All moved as if their limbs were made from water.

But the one that caught his eye–

The one right in the centre of the courtyard, dancing amongst his people–

God, he was beautiful.

“Don’t drool,” Kolivan murmured, low enough that only Keith could hear.

Keith sent him a small, withering sneer, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off his betrothed for more than a moment. He’d never seen anyone like him.

His betrothed was dressed in the same pale blue wear of his people. His tunic was entirely backless, and the tights underneath clung to his legs so strictly Keith could see their exact shape. A transparent, sleeved cape with a curved him and a cropped front hung to the backs of his thighs. He was barefooted, dancing with his fingers intertwined with a girl older than him, whose face was so similar he could only guess they were siblings. 

It was that face that drew his attention so keenly. The boy was wearing a crown made of seashells and blue crystals, taller and more ornate than the ones worn by others. It complimented his face beautifully – he had a small nose, a bright smile, eyes bluer than the world around him. Intricately painted lines spanned across the space around his eyes, along the tops of his palms, and across his exposed collarbones. Keith’s eyes hungrily followed those lines, trying to take in everything at once, but failing.

Maybe he was drooling.

How could he be worthy of such a creature?

It was like Kolivan could read his mind. “Don’t doubt yourself now, Keith.” He put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, fingers squeezing. “You are just as enticing to him as he is to you. Can you not tell?”

At some point, Keith had looked away, overwhelmed and uneasy. Now he lifted his gaze and found his betrothed staring at him, feet still. Those blue eyes were wide, painted cheeks red. He was outright gaping.

It made Keith’s spine straighten. “Enticing, you say…?”

Kolivan managed to not roll his eyes at that. “Here we go. You’ve finally taken an interest in someone, hmm? Good thing it’s your husband-to-be.”

Keith wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. He was brimming with restless, eager energy. “Can we go meet him, now? Please?”

Kolivan definitely rolled his eyes that time.


	63. Lance/Shiro - Waited

Lance was tired. Completely and utterly exhausted. 

He felt like he hadn’t done much that day, but in hindsight, he’d been working nonstop doing housework for hours. Three loads of washing, including folding said washing after it had dried, the dishes, sweeping and mopping, changing the sheets… he’d even gone through their old Christmas decorations and thrown out anything they no longer needed or that was in need of a replacement. 

When the house was as clean as it was going to get, he’d sat down on the couch to wait. Despite his tiredness, he was excited to have his husband home. They’d only been parted two short weeks – Shiro had been on a business trip for work – but to him, it’d felt like a lifetime. The house was quieter without Shiro around. Lonelier. Lance missed him much more than he thought he would’ve.

He’d wanted to be awake when Shiro arrived home. They’d been in contact all day, texting back and forth when possible. Shiro’s plane had touched down that evening. Lance had intended to pick him up, but because it was late, Shiro had insisted he stay at home. He hadn’t wanted Lance to exhaust himself trying to drive to the airport and back so late in the evening. He was always putting Lance first, always showing just how big his heart was.

It was one of the many reasons Lance was so in love with him.

So he’d dutifully waited at home. He hadn’t really left the house a mess while Shiro was gone, but he’d spent the day cleaning anyway, too restless to do anything else. He knew Shiro was going to be tired, so he didn’t want to worry him with household chores. To be honest, all he wanted was to fall straight into bed when Shiro finally came home. Not to do anything, they were far too tired to that, but just to be together. To sleep with someone by his side.

He’d really, really missed that. He’d grown so used to Shiro’s presence in his life that without him, the absence left in his wake was like a physical wound. Absence certainly made the heart grow fonder.

Regardless, Lance had intended to be awake when Shiro got back. He waited all day and all evening, thrilled by the text he received when the plane touched down. But he was so tired that despite his desire to stay up, he fell asleep before Shiro got back. 

When Shiro did finally come home, he stashed away his suitcase before rousing Lance. The sight of him, even tired and rumpled from his plane ride, sent Lance’s heart running. God, he’d missed Shiro so much. From his position half-slumped on the couch, he drew Shiro into a hug, breathing in the scent of his faded cologne. Shiro’s arms wound around him and everything felt right again.

“Welcome home,” he whispered, voice croaky with sleep but undeniably happy.

Shiro smiled into his hair, holding Lance tight. “I’m home.”


	64. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Tactile

Lance yawned as he shifted on the couch, book clasped in hand. It had been an easy day, one he’d spent relaxing, glad to have time off. He’d spent a long time talking to his parents, had taken as long as he’d wanted to eat, and been able to cuddle with his husbands for as long as they allowed. 

It’d been a while since they’d all had a day off. Celebrating things like anniversaries and birthdays was difficult when they all worked different jobs, but this little holiday they all had gave them plenty of time to be together. 

At the moment, Keith was slumped against his chest. He’d collapsed against Lance a little while ago, making himself comfortable, his head turned to the side. One arm dangled off the edge of the couch. Lance ran his fingers down Keith’s side, nuzzling the top of his head every now and then. Keith wasn’t usually much of a hugger, but convincing him to be affectionate like this wasn’t very difficult at home.

Shiro was just taking care of the rest of the day’s dishes. Lance paused in his reading to listen to him moving around the kitchen and smiled to himself. Out of the three of them, Shiro was probably the hardest worker. He took every task very seriously and hardly ever complained. Sometimes, even when he had time off, it was difficult to convince him to relax.

But that day had been different. Shiro had been easy to ply, easy to convince. He’d stayed in bed with them all morning, content to doze and chat well past the normal time they got up. And he hadn’t complained when Lance had demanded his attention later in the afternoon, letting Lance chatter at him all he wanted. Even if Shiro was the hardest worker, he was still the one who seemed to enjoy time off the best. He soaked up relaxation like he was a sponge, and always seemed well-rested the next day, even if they went to bed late.

When Shiro came to find them after he was finished doing whatever he was doing, Lance couldn’t help but grin at him. He was just glad to have had time to relax with his loved ones. He was a very tactile, affectionate person, so days like this really boosted his mood.

And he liked seeing his husbands relax, too. They deserved it.


	65. Lance/Shiro - Yearn

They got him when he was walking home from the market. It was daylight out, the sun only just edging down from its highest place in the sky, a paper bag full of apples, oranges, and a punnet of blueberries cradled in his arms. Nothing had seemed out of place, but if it had, he wouldn’t have been so carefree. 

Now all his groceries were lying on the ground somewhere, discarded and abandoned. Hunters never took victims like him during the daytime, it was unheard of. That’s why Lance hadn’t been worried about walking home alone. Who was going to risk grabbing him when anyone could have easily seen?

They took him and a dozen other kidnapped humans far away from the seaside villages where most of them lived. Deeper out into the forest and out towards the mountains, days and days away by horse, was where they ended up. Lance had only ever seen the hunter villages once when he was a child. The village was heavily warded, and only partially lived in. Hunters – humans, but a hard-bred kind, humans who didn’t care about sacrificing their brethren in order to make the kill – only ever lived where the wolves were. They were brutal and intelligent, and the rest of humanity didn’t know whether to fear or respect them.

It was a mix of both, when it came down to it. Depending on the hunter.

See, some were good. Upheld themselves to tight morals. They only killed blooded werewolves, ones that had killed a human or turned feral. They formed treaties and agreements with wolf packs, ensuring the safety of both parties. Even if they didn’t like wolves, they wouldn’t kill them over nothing. 

The other kind of hunter was much, much worse.

To be fair, the other kind of wolf was just the same.

Feral wolves had no regard for human life. They killed in a messy, bloody way that couldn’t be stopped without lethal force. The scent of blood drove them wild, removed all their inhibitions. It took a lot to turn a wolf feral, but some were born that way, so eager for chaos that almost nothing else drove them. It didn’t matter who they killed – hunter or wolf, man or woman, adult or child. 

The easiest way to catch a pack of feral wolves?

Bait.

Human bait.

Which was now what Lance found himself as.

The long trip out this deep into the forest hadn’t left him faring well. He was sweaty and covered in dirt, no doubt reeking of fear and anxiety. The hunters bound his wrists and gagged him, leaving him dehydrated and half-starved out in the forest covered in his own blood. The cuts were small and shallow, one on each arm, but that hadn’t stopped him from crying out when they’d been delivered. It’d been the same for every victim the hunters had snatched up. 

He didn’t really see a way out of this. His throat was dry, aching for water, and he was so dizzy with hunger he could barely see straight. A target this big – him and the other victims, all spaced out through the forest – could only mean the hunters were aiming for an entire pack, not just a singular wolf.

Hunters, armed to the teeth, and an entire pack of feral wolves… 

He doubted any normal humans would come out of this situation alive. It was all he’d been thinking about the last few days. How he was probably going to die, caught in the crossfire of bullets or torn apart by a werewolf three times his size. How he was never going to see his family again, and if they’d ever find out what happened to him. He hoped they didn’t, if it ended badly. Putting them in danger, or hurting them, was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

The moment night fell, a chill seemed to go through the forest. He huddled against the tree he’d been dumped at, curled between its roots. He tried not to think about any bugs that could be crawling all over him. He didn’t have the energy to brush them off.

A howl pierced the air. Unbidden, a shiver burst across Lance’s skin. He peered into the forest but it was too dark to see anything. He tugged weakly at his bonds but the rope had been tied too tight. It wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t even spit the cloth out of his mouth; it’d been tied too tightly around his head, hard enough to press into his teeth. At least it was muffling his terrified panting.

The growls and gunshots started a moment later. Lance wasn’t surprised to hear screams, grunts, pained yelps – every noise was like a blow to the head, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. Soon enough he was pretty sure he was hearing screams that didn’t come from the hunters.

Fear rattled his bones. He tried to sit upright, leaning against the tree to balance himself. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t even get his hands unbound.

But he could hear.

And after a moment, he started hearing things even worse than before. Footsteps. They thundered through the forest faster than any human could move. Then, with a crack of broken tree branches, a wolf barrelled into the clearing. It was big, fur mangy and tangled, claws overgrown. There was a wild, savage look in its eyes. It was practically drooling. Feral.

It spotted him in less than a second.

A frightened moan slipped out around his gag. Lance pressed his back against the tree so hard his shoulders ached. The wolf seemed to grin, flashing rows of sharp, discoloured teeth. It ducked its head low, fur rippling as it went to strike–

When suddenly, another wolf stormed out from the trees, a snarl caught in its jaw. The second wolf was bigger, fur so dark Lance can only make out its shape when it darted through columns of moonlight breaking through the canopy. It had a strange white streak on its forehead, and one of its front legs was badly scarred, so much so that Lance was shocked the leg had survived at all, let alone that it was still good to run on.

The wolves collided with a horrific thud. They tumbled over one another, snapping and snarling, yelping when teeth made contact. This new wolf wasn’t feral like the other one; it didn’t move irrationally, didn’t lunge at the first opportunity it saw. It dodged and weaved with speed that was surprising for its size, and when it finally saw an opening, it made the kill.

The feral wolf dropped to the ground like a broken toy and didn’t get back up.

Salty tears dripped off Lance’s chin, some soaked up by the gag, others not. The wolf stalked closer to him, nose in the air. It hardly looked ruffled. When it was close enough that Lance could feel its breath, hot and wet against his face, he squeezed his eyes shut. One bite and it’d all be over.

Except, even after moments passed, nothing happened.

The wolf sniffed at his hair, nudging aside dirty strands with its nose. It kept its mouth carefully shut when it neared him, like it was frightened of what its teeth could do. Ever so slightly, it cracked its mouth open, enough to hook its incisors through the gag’s knot at the back of his head. With one tug, the fabric fell away. Lance spit it out of his mouth, spluttering, coughing, on the verge of hiccupping with sobs. He’d never seen a wolf this big. Never even heard of one this size.

But it wasn’t hurting him. It whined, low and quiet, nose travelling down Lance’s arms to his wrists. It used its massive head to get him to turn and bit at the ropes until they unravelled, splitting away as easy as paper. With his hands free, Lance drew them to his chest, petrified. 

It freed him.

Lance met its eyes. They were brown, so brown they almost seemed human. He knew that there was a human inside there somewhere, but it still startled him, the amount of intelligence and empathy he could see in those eyes. 

Something in him yearned. He didn’t know what for, and the ferocity with which the feeling hit him left him completely breathless. His hands were shaking when he lifted them to the wolf’s face. He trembled when he pushed his fingers through its fur, his hands spanning the space beneath its eyes. It had to hunch down for him to reach it.

With an almost inaudible rumble, it leaned into his grip. 

Lance breathed out deeply, waiting several moments for his panting to ease. The wolf edged closer, trying to fold its large body up, pressing low to the ground. It curled around him, pulling its head from his grip to instead tuck him closer with one massive paw. Lance sunk into the thick fur of its chest and belly as it laid down around him, cocooning him from the dark and cold. He could feel his mind slipping away, exhaustion finally winning, but he managed to hold on.

The wolf kept him safe all night. When people did eventually come – wolves, he realised, good ones, with good hunters in tow – his wolf never left. A human bandaged up his arms and forced water down his throat before lifting him, resting him against the wolf’s back. It could carry him faster than anyone else, and he had a feeling it would get upset if they were separated.

For some reason, it was a feeling Lance reciprocated. He didn’t know this wolf, didn’t know the human inside it. But some part of him felt connected. Not just because the wolf saved him, either. There was something more. Something deeper.

He’d have to ask about it when he wasn’t on the verge of passing out.

During the entire ride to a nearby village, likely where the decent hunters lived, Lance could only think of the wolf. He clutched its fur, nestled between its shoulder blades, felt its reassuring rumbles. 

He didn’t want to let go.


	66. Keith/Lance - Rogue

Lance was generally a heavy sleeper. He wore a mask over his eyes, and sometimes put muffs over his ears to block out any sound that might reach his room. He liked to sleep uninterrupted, and considering how much he struggled to fall asleep in the first place, being able to stay asleep was pivotal in getting a good night’s rest.

That night, however, something had stopped him from doing all that. He was restless, but not overtly so. Just enough to keep him awake when he was meant to be sleeping. Even after his lights had been turned out he remained awake, lying in bed with a sort of passiveness that rarely overcame him. He contemplated reading or doing anything other than lying there, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he traced his fingers over the mark on the inside of his wrist, again and again. He knew its shape by heart. 

He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Jagged lines, curved at the lower end, following the paths his veins made on the soft skin of his arm. He’d spent hours paging through tomes in the great library, ones from every culture, from every country, and yet he’d never been able to figure out what it meant.

All he knew for sure was that someone out there wore the same mark, and that that person was perfect for him. 

If only Lance could find them.

He tried to keep optimistic about it. He had a whole kingdom full of people to meet, and with that many people to come into contact with, he was bound to come across his match sooner or later. So what if people had normally met their matches by his age? It wasn’t unheard of for people to finally meet well into their lives, even when they were old, much older than Lance’s parents, or even his grandparents. Being impatient would only make the wait more torturous. 

Eventually, he couldn’t stand trying to sleep anymore. He slipped from bed, and ignoring his robe, made his way out into the hall in his just thin pyjamas. The guards stationed outside his doors nodded at him, but made no move to stop him. It was quiet in the palace. He wandered the halls without any idea where he was going to go, without any intention of doing anything other than walking.

The windows on the eastern side of the palace had a beautiful view of the gardens and the surrounding valley. He was there before he’d even thought about it, hands pressed to the windowsill as he gazed out at the gardens. The moon was high in the sky, its face round and pale, casting light on the world below. The light wasn’t strong enough for Lance to make out much, but the sea of green spread out before him was visible, and he let his weary eyes rest on it.

When he was younger, his mother used to say that everyone, everything had a match. It didn’t have to be romantic, but there were people out there who would one day make him feel so whole that emptiness would be nothing but a distant dream. She’d say that even the moon had a match, and that it spent eternity following its loved one, being followed endlessly in return. The sun and the moon, forever dancing. 

It had seemed so romantic.

He glanced down at his mark. He wanted that so badly it hurt.

And then the windows shattered.

Lance cried out as glass rained down on the floor. It was the windows behind him, not the ones ahead, so he was safely out of the range of the falling shards. He spun around, suddenly regretting not asking a guard to accompany him, and was immediately met with a knife to the throat.

He held his breath.

There were four people wearing full-body armour and masks standing in front of the windows they’d just broken to get inside. Lance didn’t recognise them, but the black and purple of their armour suggested they belonged to the Galra. All signs pointed to a hostile invasion, and yet something in him immediately rejected that. He couldn’t see any Galra insignias, and breaking into the palace like this wasn’t what the Galra would do. Sneaking into an empty wing in the middle of the night? No, they’d break down the front door, if they ever got the chance.

So not Galra. A rogue faction? He was sure he’d heard Allura mention something like that to Coran, their advisor. He wished he’d paid more attention.

“No,” one said, putting their hand on the shoulder of the one wielding the knife, “do not harm him. That’s the Altean prince.”

Lance pursed his lips, hands raised. Outnumbered and without any weapons, he couldn’t do anything else. He stared straight into his attacker’s mask. The man was almost the same height as him, his shoulders broad. The grip he had on his knife was perfectly steady.

A mark on the knife caught his eye.

Lance startled as if he’d been zapped by static. “That mark–”

“Quiet,” the man demanded, voice steady. But then his head tilted to the side just a little, his eyes no doubt flicking towards the brand on Lance’s wrist, the one currently displayed by his raised hands. “What…?”

It couldn’t be. Lance jumped as the man grabbed his wrist, bringing the mark closer for inspection. He clearly couldn’t believe it either. Lance swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes darting down to the man’s wrist, where his suit covered his skin. He knew what he’d find under it.

He glanced up. This time, when he stared at the man’s face, the man’s mask disappeared. Thick eyebrows, dark hair, and violet eyes were revealed. His face was full of angular lines and he had lips made to scowl. He looked surprised, and he was so handsome that Lance’s heart ached.

Figures that he’d find his perfect match like this.


	67. Lance/Shiro - Elevator

The elevator shuddered to a sudden, jarring stop, and after giving a rather sick sounding groan, it didn’t move again.

Lance paused, glancing up from his phone. He reshuffled his grip on the stack of paperwork carefully tucked under one of his arms to press at the elevator buttons, glancing between them and the panel that displayed the level. It was flickering, stuck somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-three. His destination was twenty-five. Or it had been.

It didn’t seem like he was going anywhere now.

Frowning, Lance pushed at the buttons again, wondering why the elevator had stopped. It wasn’t like it was old, right? He didn’t think so. And yet when the buttons began to screech, he jumped back as if he’d been shocked. 

Something ugly uncoiled in his chest. He didn’t like being trapped. He was alone in this elevator, but surely someone would notice, right? He checked his phone for signal, but like usual, there wasn’t much in an elevator. Not enough to make a call.

Lance huffed out a breath. He walked the length of the elevator once and tried to think of what to do. He was due back in the office with this paperwork any minute now, surely his boss would realise he’d been gone for too long. Shiro was the type of guy who knew everything about his employees only because he was polite enough to ask and kind enough to listen, even if some people liked to prattle on. Like Lance. God, just like him. He’d made a fool of himself the first time he’d met Shiro. How could he not? Shiro was drop-dead gorgeous. He had the prettiest brown eyes…

Well, it had all worked out in the end. For the most part. 

See, one of Lance’s jobs was to get the bosses their coffee. It was an okay task considering he got to get himself coffee too (the perk of doing coffee runs). And since he got Shiro’s coffee, he got to talk to Shiro. They talked to each other, really. Months passed before Shiro tentatively asked Lance to stay and drink his coffee. Stay for more than just coffee, eventually.

Point was, they weren’t just boss and employee anymore. They’d been on a few dates. Had dinner. Even gone to a movie like teenagers and it had been wonderful. Lance was completely smitten with Shiro. He didn’t see the flaws Shiro insisted he had – the scar across his nose, his prosthetic arm. Lance just saw big brown eyes and a golden heart. 

Nobody in the office knew they were dating. Some probably suspected it, since Lance couldn’t hold a poker face and Shiro always smiled around him. But they didn’t want to tell anyone. It was still new, still shy. 

But now that Lance was stuck in a damn elevator he really just wanted Shiro to hug him.

Standing on his tiptoes provided him with a single jolt of signal, enough to get out a text. He waited desperately to see if anything would come back but the signal wasn’t enough. He tapped at his phone, frustrated, and told himself not to cry. He wasn’t going to be in here for long. It was just… an extended elevator ride. With flickering lights and creepy metal groaning. 

Minutes passed and nothing seemed to be happening. He set the paperwork down and hugged himself instead, fingers curled around his phone. 

When he was really going to start crying, there was a noise outside. Voices echoed through the shut elevator doors. “Mr McClain? Are you in there?”

“Yes!” He cried, stepping closer to the doors. “I’m in here.”

“Just hold on, alright? The power short-circuited, so the elevator’s stopped running. It’s not going anywhere, but we can get you out. We just need to pry the doors open.”

“Okay.” He took in a shaky inhale and stepped back. “Okay, just be quick, yeah? Kinda cramped in here.”

“Don’t worry, Lance,” a new voice said. “They’ll get you out.”

“Shiro?” Surprise coloured his words. 

“It’s me. Are you alright?”

Better now, he thought. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ve got all the paperwork in here.”

“It’s just paper, Lance,” Shiro reassured. “I just want you out.”

“I can sympathise with that.”

It took the better half of an hour to pry the elevator doors open. The floor was two-thirds of the way up, about shoulder-height on Lance. He was pretty athletic but considering the doors were only just wide enough for his shoulders, it was a tough job squeezing through the gap. Shiro reached through to help him up, hands grabbing Lance under the armpits to heave him through like he weighed nothing.

“I knew you were strong, but jeez,” he said, panting, as he was finally out of the elevator. 

Shiro huffed out a short burst of laughter, his hand coming up to cup the back of Lance’s head as he held Lance on his lap. Between the floor and Shiro’s chest, Lance had never been gladder to be back on solid ground. 

Lance closed his eyes and focused on evening out his breathing. “That paperwork is a lost cause, I’m not going back in there.”

“I agree, you’re not going back in there,” Shiro muttered into his hair. “Do you know how scared I was when they said you were stuck in a damn elevator? We are taking the stairs from now.”

“Twenty-five floors up?”

“Yes.”

“God, throw me back in the elevator, why don’t you?”

Shiro laughed again, hugging Lance tight. “No way.”

Lance smiled, and turned his face into Shiro’s neck, returning the embrace. Paramedics were here to check on him, and all his co-workers were undoubtedly spreading the gossip about him and his boss, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted a minute to himself, to let himself sink into Shiro’s arms, shake off the anxiety. 

It was surprisingly easy to be calm when Shiro held onto him like he was something really precious.

God, he hated elevators.


	68. Lance/Shiro - Stumbled

Lance was kind of clumsy. Not in the cute, fall-in-your-arms kind of way, but the “oh no I tripped and spilt hot coffee all over you” way. He’d never done that, thankfully, but he had once stumbled and sent someone’s phone flying after knocking into them, which was just as bad.

It wasn’t like he was an inherently clumsy person. He just had his unfortunate moments, that was all. Like when people had bad days, his bad days usually involved a few stumbled steps. New mysterious bruises. A multitude of papercuts. That sort of thing.

Like that day, for example. Not one of his best. He’d had a run of bad luck that started when he accidentally knocked a stack of organised paperwork off the edge of his desk at work. It had taken him the better part of an hour trying to get it all into the correct order again. Then the photocopier hadn’t worked when he’d needed it too, which really sucked. The communal cafeteria had also run out of the free teabags it offered workers, which was even worse. It had also rained, and where was his umbrella? Not with him, that’s where.

To make matters worse, he’d somehow ended up with a nasty bruise on his wrist. He tried to remember when he could’ve gotten it but came up blank. Maybe when he knocked the paperwork over. Or when he was trying to fix the photocopier. Either way, he now had a nasty bruise to deal with. It was one of the ones that throbbed constantly, and even after sitting with ice on it (an altogether uncomfortable experience considering it was the dead of winter) the pain had yet to lessen.

He thought things might have been a lot worse if he didn’t have Shiro around to kiss things better.

His boyfriend often found amusement in Lance’s unfortunately clumsy moments. He’d been around long enough to witness a lot of them, and had expertly learned to deal with Lance’s embarrassed moods afterwards. He was a professional at making Lance smile. Lance was secretly sure Shiro had magical powers, or something. No one could make him feel as good as Shiro did right after he’d done something really stupid.

That evening, Shiro prodded at Lance’s bruise with gentle fingertips to make sure nothing was broken before giving his wrist a tiny kiss, so light Lance barely felt anything at all. He let Lance mope around and lament about his bad day all he liked. Once he’d whined for a solid thirty minutes, and had Shiro promise to cuddle him all he wanted after they’d had dinner and done the dishes, he magically felt a lot better. It was like he hadn’t hurt himself at all. Even his achy wrist had been stupefied into not hurting by Shiro’s general presence.

It was quite easy to be dazed by Shiro, actually. Handsome, kind, openhearted – he was Lance’s entire world, and had been for a while, magic kisses and all.


	69. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Ripples

Lance yawned as he swung his feet back and forth off the little drop separating him from the water’s smooth surface. The lake was wide, an open mirror reflecting clear skies above, bracketed on each side by a sprawling, lively forest. Just his toes could reach the cool water, making little ripples that disturbed the clear blue.

It was a nice day. Beautiful, even. Nymphs like him adored the days were the sunshine was strong almost as much as they adored the days were rain fell for hours and hours. It was a tough choice between clear, sun-warmed water like the lake spread out before him or the torrential, powerful downpour of a storm with no intention of stopping. He had an intense fondness for both.

“What are you looking at?” A voice asked from behind him.

“Can’t I admire the view without being questioned?” He teased, tossing a grin over his shoulder. Tall trees with long, weepy leaves fanned out over this edge of the lake, providing shelter from the sun for the more sun-sensitive mate Lance had. Shiro was leaning against the tree’s trunk with a gentle smile, handsome on his face. “You sure you’re not too hot?”

“I’m alright,” Shiro reassured, pushing away from the tree in favour of coming to sit beside Lance where the shade thankfully reached.

“Not hungry, either?”

Shiro laughed quietly. “No, Lance, I’m alright. Don’t look so disappointed.”

Lance tried not to pout. He loved the feeling of Shiro’s fangs in him. Contrary to popular belief, vampires could be quite docile when they fed, especially if it was from a loved one, or someone trusted. Shiro would take the utmost care when pressing his fangs to Lance’s neck, or to the delicate skin of his inner wrists. He was even careful with their other mate, though Keith could certainly handle a bit of roughhousing. 

Speaking of Keith…

“It’s funny when he swims like that, isn’t it?”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it.

Keith didn’t really like baths. Not in his human form, not in his wolf form. Water just wasn’t his thing, which was funny because Lance was definitely his thing, and Lance was a water nymph. Generally, trying to get Keith to go swimming was impossible. But sometimes he could be bribed, especially when Lance was already in the water, flushed with excitement and oh-so-tempting.

As if he could read Lance’s thoughts, Shiro ran his fingers through Lance’s wet hair. “I see you went for a dip, too.”

“I like to swim.”

“I know.” A grin curled at the corners of Shiro’s lips, revealing a tiny hint of fang. “You look good in the water.”

Lance reddened, but his smile didn’t fade. “Flatterer.”

A huffed woof drew his attention. Keith was paddling towards them, cutting a path through the clear water with powerful strokes from all four of his legs. His thick black fur was soaked, his tail floating behind him, but his ears were perked high and his eyes were inquisitive. He cast an inquisitive, doubtful look at Shiro, who only laughed again.

“I swear I’m fine!” He insisted. “The sun isn’t even that strong today. I can hardly feel it at all.”

“You burn too easily,” Lance sighed. It wasn’t like the sun could permanently harm Shiro, but too much of it gave him horrible sunburns. It was good that Shiro didn’t really feel hot so he could wear long sleeves even when out in the summer heat. Lance much preferred his mate’s skin be pale and unmarred over bright red and burnt. “I should lend you a sunhat. It’d look good, I swear.”

Shiro smothered another smile in Lance’s wet hair, face turned to the side. “They suit you better than they’d suit me.”

With a rumble, Keith pulled himself out of the water and shook out his fur, splattering both Lance and Shiro in a spray of water droplets. His fur was sticking up in every direction but he looked content. After a stretch, and another cautionary shake, he sat himself down behind the both of them and rested his head between their shoulders. In his wolf form, he was just as tall as Shiro, which in itself was a feat considering the vampire’s impressive height. Keith had to hunch over a little to get his head in between them, but he seemed comfortable enough.

“Now you smell like wet dog,” Lance said, though there was nothing cold in his voice. He ran his fingers over Keith’s head and nuzzled against the side of his muzzle, pressing a kiss to the wet fur. He was rather delighted when he noticed Shiro doing the same thing on the other side, and judging by Keith’s deep, appreciative purrs, the feeling was mutual.

A nice day, indeed.


	70. Lance/Shiro - Murky

The rock Lance chose was small and heavy, a little misshapen but the right size to fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. He tossed it in his palm once, then twice, before tightening his grip on it and winding his arm back. With one carefully aimed throw, he released the stone. It flew through the air, skimming the surface of the lake once, twice, three times before sinking into the water.

Satisfied, he took a seat on the edge of the dock and waited.

It was a cloudy, murky day. The lake was empty of the families and fishermen that usually lined its shore. There was no sand here, though it seemed like the type of place that would normally have it. Instead the shore was made from rocks, some bigger than both his hands combined, others nothing more than pebbles. 

Simply put, it was a nice place. Old, but nice. Lots of families and visitors had admired it over the years. Lots of animals and wildlife have made it their home, too. But Lance wasn’t too interested in anything mundane like that. He was here for an entirely different reason.

The first time he’d discovered the man in the lake, it had been just as overcast a day, and the shores had been empty. Stress had driven him from his home in desperate need of some fresh air, essays be damned. Even though it had been on the verge of raining he’d headed straight for the lake, knowing he’d get the space he craved there. He hadn’t been wrong.

Like today, he’d also skipped rocks off the dock back then. There was only one dock at the late, short and wooden, so old that people didn’t bother docking anything bigger than kayaks at its wobbly posts. Most of the time it was where the fisherman stood lined up in neat rows, their rods already cast. 

He wasn’t quite sure what made the man appear that day. It wasn’t the rock, which had been plain and ordinary. And it wasn’t like Lance had said or done anything that warranted interest. He was starting to think that maybe it was just him that drew the creature’s attention. Maybe there was something special about him. Something interesting. He liked the idea of that.

A ripple in the smooth surface drew his attention. He watched, breath held, as a shape travelled towards the dock just beneath the surface of the water. It was big, longer than him and broader across the shoulders, too. If he had to put a name to it, he’d probably call it a merman. Except it wasn’t like what one would expect when they heard that name. Sure, it had a tail instead of legs, and it was covered in beautiful grey-black scales. But it also had pointed nails – claws – and tiny fangs instead of evenly sized canines like humans. It had pointed ears and slitted pupils. 

And most of the time, it had a frightfully hungry look on its face.

On _his_ face, Lance should say. It called itself Shiro.

Surprisingly, Shiro hadn’t had any intention of eating him. Or drowning him. Or hurting him in general, actually. He seemed fascinated by Lance, always watching Lance from the water with just his eyes peeking above the surface when he knew Lance was coming to see him. He could only visit when the lake was guaranteed to be empty.

Like that day.

The water stilled for a moment before Shiro emerged, eyes upturned to find Lance’s face. He flashed his fangs in a toothy grin. “Hello, Lance.”


	71. Lance/Lotor - Poison

A frustrated frown pulled at Lotor’s lips as he carefully held his omega’s hand in his own. It looked so small, so frail, swallowed by his own wide palm and long fingers. There was no life in it. No sense of the excitement, the energy, none of the spark that had so eagerly drawn Lotor’s attention. 

Gingerly, he laid Lance’s hand back down on the quilt, smoothing down any wrinkles he found in the fabric. “Get well soon, my dearest one,” he murmured, bending to press a soft, lingering kiss to Lance’s forehead. He breathed in his omega’s scent, but it was tinged with illness, something wickedly sweet. 

There was a rumour that if one ground down the thorns of a galra rose, one with petals the same colour as the flag of the nation of their namesake, that a potent poison could be made. Clear when mixed with water or wine, completely undetectable by taste or smell… It had quickly gained popularity as a wounded lover’s choice poison, one that could be slipped into the offending partner’s drink without any detection. 

It had become a more heavily regulated substance in recent years. The roses were only grown in the private palace gardens, carefully cultivated by the most knowledgeable botanists in the kingdom. There was no way for anyone to create the poison.

And yet, someone had.

Now Lotor’s omega lay in bed, suffering as the poison ravaged him. He didn’t deserve it. At the dinner when Lance had been poisoned, he’d drank from Lotor’s glass. Lotor was meant to be the recipient of the poison, not his beloved omega. The palace doctors were working on the antidote as fast as they could – it was no longer a fatal, incurable poison – but every minute that his mate spent suffering was agonising for Lotor. 

Unable to keep himself still, Lotor left his omega to rest, knowing that his most trusted guards were keeping a strict watch on him. 

He wanted to have an easy stroll through the palace, a chance to clear his head, but fortune was not on his side.

Allura was standing in the throne room, observing the sprawling kingdom just outside the wide windows that lined the wall. She glanced at him over her shoulder and offered a courteous smile. “How is he?”

Lotor bristled, but carefully hid the surge of protectiveness that rose in him. “Resting,” he said after a pause. “Healing. The antidote has to be administered slowly.”

Allura hummed. She was visiting on behalf of her father, the king of Altea. Tense relationships had bonded their separate countries for years, and while the two of them were interested in becoming closer, both politically and socially, it was difficult when neither had yet claimed the throne. In any case, Lotor didn’t always enjoy socialising with Allura, even if he admired her skills and her morals. She could tease with her eyes in a way that made him want to growl. 

“I haven’t had a chance to meet him yet,” she mused.

Not many outside of the country had, for that matter. Lotor had fallen for Lance the same way leaves fell from trees the moment autumn arrived. Naturally, as if by design, and without any hesitation. He’d never felt this way about anybody. Lance was… special. And Lotor would do everything in his power to keep him protected from the games politicians liked to play.

The fact that Lance had drank his poisoned wine was agonising.

“He means much to you,” Allura said, staring at him with a glint in her eyes that he knew well. “This omega of yours, he’s different.”

Lotor narrowed his eyes, prickling. He clenched his hands behind his back. “Why so interested?”

“Oh, don’t be coy, Lotor,” Allura grinned, her shoulders relaxed, scent unchallenging. She was an alpha like him, so it was natural to feel uncomfortable introducing her to Lance, even if Lotor knew she’d never do anything to hurt him. It was more because of their political relationship – their enemies could easily hurt their loved ones to get to them. 

And more than anything, Lotor wanted Lance to be safe. To be happy. Lance had made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he valued Lotor’s place in his life above any danger that might come his way. He was strong of character, and almost stupidly brave. Lotor, used to being held at arm’s length because of his position, relished the closeness at which Lance kept him. As much as he was protective of Lance, the omega was no less protective of him.

It was dizzying to realise he was so beloved to another. 

“I’m not being coy,” he sneered, face turned away.

“Then tell me about him. I can’t say I’m not curious. You’ve never been interested in anyone before.”

Lotor breathed out once, and unclenched his hands. “He’s… kind. He doesn’t care that I’m royalty, or that I was raised with a silver spoon. He sees me for me, loves me for me.” A private smile touched his face. “And his eyes are the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen.”

Allura matched his smile. “I’m happy for you, Lotor, if you’ve found someone who you care for so deeply. I pray for a fast recovery for him, so that I can meet him.”

Lotor nodded, politely accepting the well wishes. He knew that from Allura they were honest. “If you stay until he’s well, I’ll organise a dinner.”

“I’ll stay,” she said. “Besides, I believe that we have a poisoner to catch. If they think they can harm you or yours on my watch, they have another thing coming.”

Lotor winced – Allura on a mission was an unstoppable force. He had no doubts that she would find the poisoner, and it was an oddly comforting thought. “If we’re done here…”

She waved a hand, already strolling from the room. “Yes, yes, off to your mate you go.”

He was too dignified to flush, but her teasing did make him prickle once more. He waited for her to leave before unclasping his hands, gently rubbing away the indents his nails had left in his palms. His stress for Lance was putting him on edge. In some ways he was glad for Allura’s teasing. As much as their fathers didn’t get along, they were generally on the same page. Their plans for the future were hopeful and peaceful.

Her evident approval of Lance soothed many of Lotor’s worries. 

Suddenly, he no longer felt the need to walk around. He hurried back to Lance’s side, where he would always be.


	72. Keith/Lance - Healer

“Call the healer, they said,” Lance muttered to himself as he jerked his parka closer around himself, huddling into the fur-lined hood. “The healer will fix it for us, they think. The healer can fix anything! I mean, who cares about death, right? Totally no match for the healer.”

Aggravated, he kicked a fluffy of snow out of the way as he trudged through the woods. He did not get paid enough for this. Actually, he rarely got paid at all. Apparently gratitude was supposed to pay his bills and put food on the table. 

But it wasn’t like he could say no.

He sighed, breath fogging.

It was sort of impossible for him to say no when it came down to it. If he did, then people would die. Ever since he’d come into his powers, it had been the same thing over and over again. Supernatural beings all had a sense for nearby healers, like a prickle at the back of their neck, or a strange taste on their tongue. It didn’t matter who they were, or if they were good people or not. They could find him, or beckon him to come to them if they got close enough to him.

He responded to every call. It was in his nature. His ability to heal was an uncontrollable, wild thing. If he ignored it, it would burn him up inside, a wave too big to stop. It was why he worked at a veterinary centre, so that he could regulate it in small doses, healing a cat’s cold here and a dog’s sore paw there. Enough to siphon the build-up inside of him, but not enough to get him caught. Just bits and pieces to ease the pressure in his head.

But sometimes, like that evening, the pressure became too much. It happened whenever someone who desperately needed his help came too close to him. It was driving him crazy, the need to heal. To find the wounded and fix them. Crazy enough to drag him out in the middle of winter when snow had been falling twelve hours straight. It was stupidly cold and he really wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t wait for whoever it was to find him. 

They wouldn’t live that long.

Snow was continuing to fall while Lance hiked through the woods. He was carrying an extra coat just in case and it was weighing him down. It wasn’t like there was a GPS for this sort of thing; all he had to go on was some sort of strange sixth sense, the same one all healers had. It was as reliable as it was predictable.

Thankfully, it seemed like his wounded prey was trying to be helpful. A howl pierced the air, cold and pained. It echoed between the trees and raked chills down Lance’s spine, ones that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature. 

He picked up his feet.

In the clearing ahead, he found the injured wolf. Or more accurately, it found him. It stumbled and crashed through the undergrowth, leaking red all over the ground. It was huge, covered in dark fur, its back sprinkled in white from being out in cold while it snowed. When it saw him, it stumbled, letting out a pitiful, pleading whine. Even an injured werewolf would find comfort in a healer. 

“Shit,” Lance breathed. He almost toppled over as the wolf collapsed against him, its legs buckling. “Come on big guy, don’t pass out on me now. It is way too cold for me to be dragging your furry hide through this forest.”

Hot breathes washed over Lance’s face. He nudged the wolf’s face aside, pushing his fingers through its fur, ignoring all the blood he found. He got his hands as close to the wolf’s skin as he could, finding the pathways of energy that pulsed weakly through its body. And when he found them, he made them stronger.

Healing was a gentle act. It wasn’t painful. It was nourishing, calming. Quiet. The world seemed to still, like it was holding its breath. Even the snow slowed, as if time were slowly being turned down, second by second, centimetre by centimetre. 

When it was done, Lance and the wolf both let out long exhales. Relief eased the pressure in Lance’s mind. Healing eased the pain in the wolf’s body. 

Lance never really knew what to do with his patients once they’d been healed. Some took off straight away. Others thanked him first. Some stuck around the town for a while, never bothering him, but always leaving eventually. They sometimes left him a gift, usually something a healer like him could use. Herbs, flowers, rare stones. That sort of thing. He was still learning to use tools but he appreciated every gift. Traditionally, it was the honoured thing to do, to gift a healer. 

He didn’t expect the werewolf to shift back.

It was an awkward, uncomfortable process. Bones shifted and cracked, fur receded, limbs shortened. Lance politely turned his head away. He’d never watched a wolf shift and he had no intention to change that. Soon enough he had a naked, shivering man hunched in his arms.

See, this is why he brought the coat.

He settled it around the man’s shoulders and surreptitiously checked him over for wounds. Aside from bruising on his side and smears of blood, he looked unharmed. Handsome too, Lance was annoyed to admit. Dark hair, dark violet eyes, a strong jawline. If he hadn’t just dragged Lance out into the woods and dripped blood all over him, he would totally be Lance’s type.

(Probably still was, Lance was also annoyed to admit.)

With a groan, he heaved one of the man’s arms around his shoulders, helping him stand. “Alright, time to get out of the snow. Wouldn’t want any of your bits freezing off.”

The wolf groaned, but let Lance drag him back down through the woods. His head lolled for a minute, his breathing hard. It took a while for him to regain any of his strength, but eventually he was walking instead of being dragged, and he’d managed to grip a fistful of Lance’s coat to keep himself upright. Werewolves healed much faster than humans, but the way he’d been injured before wasn’t something he couldn’t managed on his own.

Hence, he found Lance.

“Thank you,” the wolf said, his tired eyes meeting Lance’s when he’d gotten his breathing under control.

Lance was surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like others hadn’t been sincere before, that they hadn’t all but worshipped the healers who treated them. But this felt different. When Lance looked into the wolf’s eyes, he felt something. A connection. A spark. Something he’d never felt before. 

It was confusing and just a little bit scary. Just a little.

“I’m Lance,” he said, eyes flittering over the wolf’s face, trying to figure out what about him was so special. It couldn’t have just been his handsome face. It was more.

The wolf blinked at him, fingers tightening in Lance’s coat, holding onto his shoulder so tight it was like he was afraid Lance might suddenly disappear. “Keith.”


	73. Lance/Shiro - Secret

“I won’t be gone long, Allura,” Lance insisted, laughing as he urged Allura’s fussing hands away from his cloak where she’d been fixated on smoothing out wrinkles that didn’t exist. “Just a few moments. Nothing more.”

Allura cast a disapproving look over him. They were both due in the royal hall in under an hour, and needed to be prepared for the day of court they were to attend. Time was of the essence, but Lance hated court days, and he always did everything he could to delay the inevitable. 

Eventually, after turning his pleading eyes on her, Allura relented. “Fine. Just a moment! What is so important you have to get away so badly?”

He just grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She shooed him off.

Lance didn’t like keeping secrets from Allura, but some had to be kept. If he had to spend another entire day in court staring at Shiro, unable to approach him or hold him as he wished, then he’d be driven mad. 

He raced down the halls in search of the familiar armour that marked Altean royal guards. The palace was always busy on court days, full of bustling employees and visiting citizens. Almost every wing of the palace was open to the public. Even in his royal uniform and cloak, it was easy for Lance to blend in.

He found Shiro in one of the smaller courtyards, hidden in the alcove between two tall stone pillars. Only someone who was specifically searching for him would see him. In fact, Lance’s gaze almost passed right over him – almost. But Shiro reached out of the shade the alcove provided to grab him by the hips, reeling him in with a handsome smile.

“There you are,” Lance exclaimed, standing on the tips of his toes to put his arms around Shiro’s broad shoulders. “Shouldn’t you be with the rest of the guard, waiting to stand around in the hall all day?”

“We do more than stand around, my Prince,” Shiro assured him, dipping his head to chastely brush his lips against Lance’s cheek. “We guard the entrances, the exits. Make sure no one gets too rowdy. That all who enter have no wish to harm you or yours.”

“I know.” Lance smiled to himself, flushed and affectionate as Shiro showered him in gentle touches. “I’m only teasing.”

Shiro laughed quietly. He touched a hand to Lance’s face, his fingers free of the strict leather gloves the guards usually wore. He always neglected to put them on when he knew Lance was coming to find him, preferring to cradle Lance with bare hands. Always a romantic at heart, his Shiro. He treated Lance with a tenderness that was born from pure affection. It wasn’t because Lance was the prince, or because he believed he had to treat Lance with care.

It was because he saw Lance for Lance.

And that was something not many could do.

It was safe to say that Lance was utterly smitten with the soldier. He had been for a while, even though he knew it wasn’t proper for him to like someone not of noble birth. But he didn’t believe in that. Nobility came from strength of character, and Shiro had more than proved himself. He made Lance feel like a better person. 

“You’ll be at the front of the hall today, won’t you?” Lance asked.

“Of course, my Prince,” Shiro said. “As always, I will stand right by your side.”

Lance smiled, unable to help himself. Although he hated the thought of Shiro standing between him and any potential attackers, he couldn’t deny how glad he was to have Shiro nearby. No one knew of their relationship, so to have him close was a secret delight. It wasn’t as though he thought his parents would disapprove – he was the second born, and while he wished Allura all the best in the world, she would likely have an advantageous marriage. It meant the rules were more lenient where Lance was concerned.

Still, he liked having Shiro all to himself. Liked the feeling of only having this secret between them. And for now, Shiro was willing to indulge him. He had concerns about being with the Prince, and had taken much convincing, but there was something between them that was completely undeniable. Something warm and inviting.

“You have duties to attend to,” Shiro reminded him. He kissed Lance’s forehead once, lingering for a moment, before urging him away. “Go. I shall see you soon.”

Lance was reluctant to leave. He cast one last look at Shiro, drinking in his fill, before giving a little wave and turning on his heel. Soon he would tell his parents that he had found love for himself. Soon he would no longer have to hide his affection for Shiro. What could they say when he told them about the kind, loving, honest man he’d fallen for? He had no doubt that they’d be happy for him.

But for now, it was his secret. It was the one thing he had control over, who he’d give his heart to. The one thing not even politics could dictate. He’d given it to Shiro the moment they’d first met. 

And if he had to endure Allura’s teasing, suspicious looks – knowing full well she’d figure him out before anyone else – then so be it. Shiro was worth everything in the world.


	74. Lance/Shiro - Climb

“And as I was saying, we think we’ve found you the perfect instructor. Just this way, Mr Shirogane. Through here.”

Lance perked up as voices filtered into the break room. He stuffed the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and hastily swallowed it before standing, right as his manager came wandering in. She was a rather peppy lady – a bit too peppy, in his opinion, but he liked her energy – and her wide smiles were more often than not infectious. He was reflecting her grin just at the sight of her.

“There you are,” she said, beckoning him over with powder-stained hands. “Lance, come and meet Mr Shirogane.”

Lance did so. The man was a new customer, one that Lance knew about, actually. He was coming to their rock climbing facility on a recommendation from his physio therapist. Lance realised why the moment he laid his eyes on the man – one of his arms had been amputated and replaced with a prosthetic. Considering the man’s muscle tone, it stood to reason that he’d need to keep up his strength. 

His boss introduced them, and they went over all the relevant questions and paperwork. Lance had done this sort of thing before with other clients. It was a good way to keep up muscle tone, and a form of exercise that was also fun and challenging. When all that was said and done, Lance got his client into a harness, when through all safety precautions, and then they were ready.

“You think you’ll be alright, Mr Shirogane?” Lance asked.

“Just Shiro, please,” Shiro said, giving Lance a bashful, nervous look. It seemed out of place on his handsome, mature face, but Lance was struck with the sudden thought that he looked oddly endearing. 

Lance grinned.

And so the climbing began. Two other employees anchored them from the floor so Lance could guide Shiro up the wall. This was just a testing session, one designed so Lance could measure out Shiro’s capability, test how comfortable he was on the wall. He seemed to be doing alright, even if he had to take this slow, and winced every now and then at the longer stretches between handholds. 

“So… do you do this every day?” Shiro asked, floundering for a moment. When Lance raised a brow, Shiro went red. “That was stupid to ask. You work here. Right.”

Lance laughed, unable to help himself. “Actually, it’s a valid question. We don’t get to climb as much as you’d think we would.”

“Really?” 

“Yep. We do a lot of supervising, paperwork, anchoring… lots of instructing, not as much doing, you know?”

“That makes sense.”

Lance grinned. He was a few rungs higher than Shiro, patiently watching him test his strength, his flexibility. “Your arm hurt at all?”

Shiro hesitated before answering, eyes flickering away. “No, it’s fine.”

“Perfect. You tell me if it hurts to start, yeah?”

Shiro gave him a puzzled look.

Lance went red. “Oh my God. If it starts to hurt, I meant. Starts to hurt!”

Shiro laughed quietly, and shuffled up a few rungs, carefully flexing his prosthetic fingers against the handhold. “This isn’t so bad.”

“I should hope not!” Lance snorted, amused. From this close he could see the amusement in Shiro’s brown eyes. They were quite pretty eyes, he thought. “Otherwise this would be a very boring partnership.”

“Partnership?”

“Of course! We are going to rock these walls.”

Shiro ducked his head to muffle his snickers.

Lance grinned wider. “Get it? Rock these walls? Rock climbing?”

“I get it, I get it.” Shiro gave him a small smile. “Thanks for helping me. I was nervous about doing this, you know. I wasn’t sure I would be able to.”

“You look like you’re doing just fine,” Lance reassured him. 

Shiro gave him another bashful smile. He looked so pretty when he smiled, Lance thought. He didn’t usually stare at his customers so hard, but something about Shiro just drew him in. He was starting to think that he’d enjoy every minute of working with Shiro. 

“Come on then, let’s go higher,” Lance said, turning back to the wall. Shiro’s sweet, charming laughter followed him all the way up.


	75. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Toll

Lance liked to whine. It was a bit of a nasty habit, but in his nature. Most people understood that he was being good-natured about it. Teasing. He was a talkative person and sometimes his mouth ran wild with his thoughts before he’d thought to close it. He chattered to fill silences and awkward moments, and never really left a comment unsaid, even though sometimes he probably should have.

That’s why, when he was quiet, people started to worry. It wasn’t like him to be quiet, even he knew that. But sometimes he just couldn’t get any words out.

Mostly because, in this instance, he was sure that if he opened his mouth to speak he was going to throw up all over the nice carpet in the living room. 

He’d expected to feel sick when he fell pregnant. Horror tales of morning sickness and various other pregnancy-related mishaps regarding bowel movements had made their way into his mind after some ill-advised internet surfing. He and his mates had planned this pregnancy, so he’d spent a long time preparing for it, wanting to have knowledge of what would happen to his body as his baby began to grow.

The news of his pregnancy had been confirmed by his doctor yesterday.

He’d known about it for a while before that, though. Something instinctual in him had known he was pregnant the first morning he woke up with unease in his stomach. He hadn’t mentioned it to Keith or Shiro, not wanting to get their hopes up. It’d been his second heat off of suppressants that he’d caught, but for male omegas, it often took more than two tries. He also hadn’t wanted to get his own hopes up, in case he was wrong. After all, it seemed too easy for him to fall pregnant on the second try. 

And yet here he was.

His mates had been overjoyed when they’d been given the news. Shiro had teared up, unable to contain his delight. His scent had been swallowed by content pride. It was the same with Keith, in a more subdued sense. He’d growled out his pride, puffing up and posturing, the perfect picture of a happy alpha. He hadn’t known what to do with himself, so distracted by his pleasure at their good news that he’d seemed awkward in his own body. In the end, he’d took to scenting both Lance and Shiro obsessively, something that had amused the both of them.

The delight hadn’t worn off yet, and even though Lance had already thrown up once that morning and was on the verge of making it a repeat occurrence, he couldn’t say he wasn’t happy, either. 

“Feeling any better?” Shiro asked, as he wandered over to Lance, offering him a fresh cup of herbal tea. When Lance pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head, Shiro winced, his brown eyes wide with concern. He’d never liked seeing his mate in pain, Lance knew that well. 

He drank the tea. It eased some of the tension in his stomach, loosened some of the knots. When Keith came to join them on the sofa, offering a heating pad he’d been warming in the microwave, Lance could’ve groaned with relief. The heating pad and the tea definitely worked wonders for him. Once the initial heaving session in the morning was over, he generally felt a little better, even if he threw up again. He was still waiting for that sense of relief to hit him.

Keith rubbed his fingers over the back of Lance’s neck, his gaze intently focused on Lance’s face, then his stomach, then his face again. He nuzzled Lance’s cheek and let his strong, heady scent wash over Lance’s senses. That, combined with the way Shiro gently massaged one of his hands, his own scent sweet and subtle, was putting Lance to sleep. Even though it was morning, he drained the rest of his tea and settled into the couch, uncaring that he was sitting upright.

He’d take any sleep he could get, at this point.

Shiro bent to press a kiss to his palm. Keith continued playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. It was quiet and comforting, two things he’d come to value when his usual energy was squashed by morning sickness. He knew that his silence worried his alphas, but it was a necessary evil. Besides, they’d made it abundantly clear that they’d be with him every step of the way. They were more conscious of the toll pregnancy would have on Lance’s body than he himself was.

It was sweet. One of the reasons he felt comfortable enough to have a child was because he knew how dearly his mates loved him. He didn’t need much more than that.


	76. Lance/Shiro - Cookies

Courting was a difficult, embarrassing thing. For the most part, alphas usually courted omegas. Beta courted omegas too, or other betas. It was less common for any designation to court an alpha, though it was quickly becoming the norm in the wake of equality movements. Who wouldn’t want to spoil their sweet, doting alpha?

Regardless, it was still embarrassing. Giving gifts to sometimes unsuspecting crushes was embarrassing even to think about. Lance had received a few gifts in the past; a bouquet of flowers from a sweet beta and a necklace from an alpha. He’d been very flattered to receive the gifts, but he hadn’t felt a connection to either of them, so he had refused their courtship. Most people were very kind about being rejected (and rejecting) and Lance was glad the beta and alpha had been good sports about it.

There was one alpha he knew he wouldn’t say no to, though. 

He’d known Shiro for a while. They’d struck up a friendship after being introduced by someone they mutually knew, and Lance really liked him. He’d been drawn to Shiro the instant he met him. Not only was Shiro stupidly handsome, with his big brown eyes and broad shoulders, but he was kind, and charming, and he had an air of safety about him that Lance loved. 

They’d gotten to know each other before Lance’s feelings turned into something painfully romantic. He pined after Shiro so much his friends started to take pity on him and drop hints to Shiro. As much as he was mortified by that, he also appreciated that they approved of his crush. Still, Shiro was a good man. A good, oblivious man, who noticed nothing.

Lance thought, for a while, that Shiro was going to offer him a courting gift. At times Shiro would go to say something, then flush and make something up, asking Lance about the weather or something equally unsubtle. 

He knew Shiro was nervous. He was always cautious around Lance, never pushing boundaries, never acting aggressive or brutish like a lot of alphas did. He respected Lance, treated him equally, treasured him as a friend. It was easy to fall for him, when it came down to it. There was no one else he liked as much as he liked Shiro.

That’s why he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

An omega giving a courting gift wasn’t a rare occurrence, but it wasn’t exactly common. Somewhere in between. The receiver might be surprised, but not put-off. And since Shiro wasn’t making the move, Lance was going to. It wasn’t like it was that hard, right? All he had to do was give Shiro a gift and ask to court him. The worst thing that could happen was that Shiro would say no, and Lance had already been over that scenario in his head a dozen times, so he was prepared for that.

All he had to do was ask.

It totally wasn’t that hard.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t doing much to soothe his nerves. 

He’d made Shiro cookies. Not just any cookies, but his favourite ones – shortbread with a little dot of raspberry jam in the middle. He’d made them once before, ages ago, and Shiro had loved them. Seeing as a handmade gift like this was generally taken well, he thought it was a great idea. He’d briefly considered buying a gift, but decided against it. Shiro would probably appreciate something like this more. Something they’d shared in the past.

The cookies were wrapped in a little decorative bag and sealed with a ribbon Lance had tied himself. They looked good, he thought. Smelt good too.

Finding Shiro wasn’t a hard task. His height and the width of his shoulders had him a head above everyone. They were meeting up to get food for a barbeque their friends were hosting. It was a warm Sunday afternoon and Lance thought this was the perfect time to ask. He tried not to think about the fact that they’d have to spend the evening together if Shiro did reject him.

After loading the car up with groceries (shopping with Shiro was a delight, but that was something to be fully enjoyed another time), Lance begged to get coffee, which Shiro didn’t say no to. One pleading, blue-eyed look and Shiro was laughing, taking him by the elbow to the nearest coffee shop.

“Should we get something to eat?” Shiro asked, as he eyed the display. 

Lance, knowing the cookies were safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket, shook his head. They were waiting just outside the café, under its front awning where little tables and chairs had been set up for patrons. “Actually, I have something,” he said, after nervously licking his lips.

Shiro gave him a puzzled look. 

Lance revealed the little bag of cookies and set them on the table. His heart thudded as Shiro’s eyes lit up. When he was happy, it was so plain and honest on his face that Lance could hardly breathe. He was sure no one could be as beautiful as Shiro was when he smiled. Before Shiro could reach for the bag, Lance tightened his fingers around it, receiving another confused look for his efforts. He cleared his throat with a great deal of awkwardness.

“I wanted to ask if I can court you,” he said. And then he went very, very red, all the way up to the tips of his burning ears.

If it was any consolation, Shiro abruptly went bright red, too.

After a long, silent moment, Shiro choked out, “Really?”

The happy honesty was back on his face, and it made Lance huff out a breath of laughter. “Yes, really.” His fingers played with the bag of cookies. “Can I?”

It took Shiro a moment to realise he hadn’t answered yet. But then his face split into a wide grin that reached all the way up to his eyes, brightening them, and his pleasant flush returned. “Yes,” he said.

Excitement warmed Lance. He pushed the cookies across the table and all but melted when Shiro eagerly opened them. They both ate one, the suppressed enjoyment a physical weight between them, and when Shiro was done he leaned across the table to plant a big, jam-scented kiss on Lance’s cheek. It made him laugh, his fingers curling in Shiro’s shirt to keep him close.

They were going to go to the barbecue as a courting pair. They’d walk in hand-in-hand and he knew everyone would greet them with feigned exasperation. It would make Lance red, Shiro redder, but he welcomed the thought of it. No one knew he was going to ask today, or even at all. It would be a surprise for everyone who had supported him. 

He felt content in the knowledge that his closest friends approved of his choice, that they actively encouraged him to seek out the happiness Shiro would undoubtedly give him. Even if he would be embarrassed, he couldn’t wait to show off Shiro in a way he hadn’t been able to before. 

They’d never get him to shut up about Shiro’s perfection now.


	77. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Bed

Lance thought there was something oddly addicting about sleeping in the same bed as a shifted werewolf. There were some logistics to be worked out, particularly concerning the strength of the bed frame and the size of the mattress. A small bed would not be able to hold the hulking mass of a wolf like Keith, who reached Shiro’s height and was broader than him by quite a bit when shifted. 

But it was still nice. Fortunately for them, with three people to fit into a bed, their mattress had sufficient room for a wolf and had yet to do more than groan at the added weight. Lance liked it when Keith shifted to cuddle with him. It wasn’t a common occurrence, no matter how much he whined for it. After all, shifting inside was a pain. Keith couldn’t fit through half the doorways unless he changed back.

Keith was exceptionally warm when in wolf form, like he was Lance’s own personal heater. He’d curl up on the bed in whatever way was most comfortable and let Lance clamber over him, fitting himself against the curve of Keith’s stomach or chest. He’d press himself into Keith’s thick fur and wait for warmth to leech into him. Sometimes, Keith would sling a paw around him, pinning him close, or nudge Lance under his head, where he could keep Lance safely tucked out of harm’s reach (not that there was any harm in their bedroom).

Having Keith on the bed in wolf form wasn’t something Shiro exactly approved of, even if he’d join in on the cuddling. He’d always catch them on the bed and just stare for a minute, looking torn between sighing and groaning, before letting out a sound that was a combination of the two. He had a way of looking disappointed that the bed would once against smell like dog, but still eager to get in on the action that culminated in a very cute pout forming on his lips. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Lance and Keith both agreed that said pout definitely existed.

Technically speaking, Keith wasn’t meant to be on the bed in wolf form. They had a set of house rules that were meant to help keep the peace, rules they’d all agreed on when they’d started living together as a triad. Lance wouldn’t leave water all over the house, especially the bathroom, even though he was a water spirit. Shiro wouldn’t leave his pre-packaged blood on any of the main levels in the fridge, instead putting it in a container in the bottom of the fridge where neither Lance nor Keith would see it. They didn’t have a problem with blood – they were dating a vampire, after all – but it was still strange to have blood in the fridge like that. Keith wouldn’t shift indoors to minimise any potential damage to their furniture, and he wouldn’t sleep on the bed in wolf form.

Obviously that last one was an often broken rule. Shiro would always grumble about it. “You shed everywhere, Keith,” he’d complain, and he wasn’t wrong. Not only did the bed smell of dog afterwards, but there was fur everywhere, so much so that they always had to wash the sheets the next day. Lance did this, because he knew Shiro didn’t approve of Keith’s actions (even if he never told him off for it, and even actively participated in it) and because he didn’t exactly discourage Keith from shifting in the first place.

Kind of the opposite, actually.

He just liked the warmth of Keith’s body. His dreams were never plagued with restlessness when he’d fallen asleep with as much of him as he could manage pressed into Keith’s fur. It was an intense feeling. Keith explained it as Lance feeling threads of a pack bond, one that naturally formed between wolves, and often between their lovers, even if their lovers weren’t werewolves too. 

They were becoming pack and that meant more than anything to a werewolf, so how could Lance ever deny him? Keith loved him and Shiro so much that a pack bond was forming.

Not even Shiro could stay grumbly when he thought about that.


	78. Keith/Lance - Restless

Lance didn’t often wake up at loud noises. It was one of the things that was odd for someone like him – someone who was an alpha with a healthy amount of alpha instincts running through him. Most alphas were very cautious in their sleep, driven to protect their back and their belongings even when not awake. 

He just liked his sleep, really. When he was younger he’d sleep with headphones in and an eye mask slung around his eyes, both desperate measures to keep noise and light out. It had done wonders for him, letting him comfortably sleep through the night without any slight disturbance waking him up. 

It was sort of different when Keith was concerned.

Well, very different.

He didn’t need headphones or an eye mask to sleep anymore. Generally just a little piece and quiet would do the trick. Some nights were understandably easier than others, but it was like that for everyone. No one is immune to a little sleeping troubles here and there.

But Keith had a lot of it.

Not always, but often enough to worry Lance. It wasn’t anything bad, he didn’t think. Nightmares or uneasy sleeping brought by sleep and probably affected by Keith’s hormones or instincts. One was likely out of balance – not something dreadfully uncommon for omegas with attitudes like him – but it would sort itself out as Keith aged. 

Some nights, Keith’s restlessness woke him. It would start small, with little shivers or quiet grunts that were so small he didn’t always wake up to them. If whatever dream he was having persisted, then he’d start to shift around, uncomfortable, his body tense and coiled tightly. That was usually enough to wake Lance. If Keith started to whine or whimper, he’d spring awake so fast he’d give himself whiplash. 

He may have been able to block out the world around him, but he’d never block out anything to do with his beloved omega.

For the most part, Keith never really woke up for these sort of things. He was aware of them in the same way people were aware that they kind of snored in their sleep. Mostly, Lance would wake up. He’d tuck Keith closer against his chest and press his nose against the back of Keith’s neck, making quiet rumbles if he needed to. Sometimes he’d scent Keith, just a little. Sometimes he’d run his fingers through Keith’s hair until he settled back into easy sleep. 

Those occurrences became less and less as time passed. Lance liked to think that he’d helped, even in a small way. If his omega could sleep better with Lance watching over him, content in the knowledge that Lance would be able to tell if he was uneasy, then Lance felt all the better for it. There was no better feeling in the world than knowing he was making Keith’s life easier. 

Besides, that’s what a good alpha did. He would’ve done anything to make Keith feel as loved as he was.


	79. Lance/Shiro - Clothes

A lot of people said that omegas and alphas could find their mates purely by scent alone. It was harder for betas, whose senses weren’t quite as finely tuned as their dynamic counterparts, but it could still be done. There were studies and research papers to support the idea, many of which stemmed from a scientific viewpoint. So while it could be biology dictating mates, most people liked to think it was fate.

Lance was in the latter group.

He liked the idea of finding that one person out there who was meant to be for him by scent alone. It was romantic. His parents had met that way. His grandparents too, for that matter. Most people did, even if it took years and years. He was hoping that it wasn’t like that for him, and that his patience would pay off eventually.

It started to when he received the wrong bag from the dry cleaner.

While washing clothes generally removed the bulk of one’s scent, it didn’t remove all of it, especially not if the clothes were well worn. Bits would remain, particularly around the neckline and the wrist cuffs, where small scent glands under the skin produced scent. It was like that with most fabrics – bed sheets, towels, blankets. The more they were used by one person, the more they smelt like that person, even if they were washed.

Lance didn’t often take his clothes to a cry cleaner. Only some of his clothing specifically instructed him to send it to one, and even then he didn’t usually send it to this specific dry cleaner. It was the first time he’d been there. Everything had seemed fine up until he got home and opened the dry cleaning bag, which had been the exact same one he’d sent in, except the clothes inside weren’t his.

He’d gotten one breath of the scent lingering under the fresh smell of soap on the clothes and his knees had gone weak.

It must have been fate. He was convinced. He’d sat on the edge of his bed and breathed in the subtle scent of alpha on the clothes accidentally given to him and known that whoever they belonged to was undoubtedly his mate. It was a physical sense of rightfulness he couldn’t shake, like a pull in his belly. Nothing had ever smelt so good.

He’d taken the clothes right back to the dry cleaner, filled with nervous energy. It wasn’t like he could keep them. Whoever they belonged to had probably gotten his clothes in exchange, right? He needed to know who they belonged to.

Trying to convince the dry cleaners of that was a little more difficult than he’d imagined. They couldn’t just give out private information, not even when they’d made a mistake like this. And not even when Lance insisted that the person whose clothes they’d given him was definitely his mate.

Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to argue for long. The little bell above the front door had chimed, and a pleasant voice said, “Sorry, I think you’ve given me the wrong order.”

Lance felt chills. He could smell the alpha’s scent instantly, and it made his face heat up. Still clutching the alpha’s clothes, he’d turned to look at him, gaze hungrily seeking him out. The alpha was already staring at him with big brown eyes set into a handsome face. He was tall and broad, with a scar across his nose and a strangely cute tuft of white hair on top of his black-haired head. He watched the alpha suck in a slow breath, taking in Lance’s scent.

And obviously liking what he found.

Lance’s cheeks ached at the grin that spread across his face. He was frozen in place but so overwhelmed by joy he didn’t know what to do with himself. A million questions flooded through his mind but he couldn’t stop smiling for long enough to say them. 

He could smell satisfaction in the alpha’s scent, and it was all the encouragement he needed to be extremely hopeful. When their eyes met, and a thrilling spark went all the way threw him, he suddenly didn’t care about the clothes at all.


	80. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Reaction

Lance was standing by the barbecue when he spotted Keith stepping onto the back patio. He had baby Julio tucked into his arms, having finished feeding him his afternoon bottle indoors. Lance’s eyes hungrily took in the sight of his baby boy. Even parting with him for half an hour felt like parting with him forever.

After excusing himself from the conversation he was having with one of his cousins, who was in charge of cooking, he made his way over to Keith, who rather amusedly handed over the baby. “He drank the entire bottle,” he said, nuzzling Lance’s hair a little.

“Of course he did,” Lance cooed, as he smiled down at Julio’s sleepy face. “He’s my hungry boy.”

Keith snorted, but didn’t deny it. Little Julio was always hungry, though Lance thought that half the time he just wanted something in his mouth. It wasn’t strange to find Julio chewing on one of his toys, or sticking his chubby fingers in his mouth to muffle his giggles.

Lance didn’t always hover over his children so much. Lots of omegas did, becoming possessive over their children, almost unwilling to let them out of their sights. It was hard to supress those biological instincts that demanded they protect their young, especially in the few months after the birth, when the omega was weak and flooded with hormones. When Lance had given birth to his first child, he’d cried anytime she was taken from him. His alpha mates had helped him sort through those emotions, and they’d faded after a couple of weeks. It had been easier with his second baby, even if he still got a little nervous sometimes.

“Where’s Shiro?” Keith asked, his eyes scanning the yard.

“Probably talking to my mother, still.” Lance was too distracted by Julio to help with the search. They were at a get together with all of his family, including the extended family. Cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces – the whole crew had turned up for lunch and a chance to catch up. Lance and his family had been no different, even if that meant wrangling his two kids and two mates into action while three months pregnant.

At least baby number three was behaving today. No wild tummy flutters, no nausea, no cravings. Lance counted that as a win.

They set off to find Shiro who was still chatting with Lance’s mother and her sisters, which was as adorable as it was predictable. He had their daughter perched on his hip, and the image of him – a big, strong alpha cradling his sweet little girl – was enough to send anyone swooning, Lance included. 

When he noticed their approach, Shiro politely excused themselves, and met them halfway. He bent down to press a kiss to the crown of Julio’s head, subtly scenting him at the same time. “Did he eat well?”

“Yeah, the whole bottle.”

Shiro grinned. “Must have been hungry.”

Lance laughed quietly. When Edelira leaned over, arms outstretched for him, he shuffled his grip on Julio so that he could hold both his children comfortably. It definitely wasn’t something he could keep up for a long period of time, but while his babies were still little enough for him to hold, he damn well wasn’t going to put them down. Edelira was going to be four soon, and Julio one. Time was flying by way too fast for his liking.

God, he didn’t want to think about his baby girl going to school for the first time next year. He shook the thoughts away and nuzzled her soft, dark hair, delighting in her bubbly giggles. Both his kids had the sweetest laughs. They were easily the best sounds in the world.

Instincts quelled, Lance glanced back to his mates, only to find them both watching him with hungry looks in their eyes. He huffed out a quiet burst of laughter, knowing exactly what they were thinking: they’re looking at their omega mate, two lovely children, and third baby on the way curving Lance’s stomach noticeably through his shirt, and that they’re liking what they see.

Lance just grinned at them. They never failed to make him feel loved and attractive, even when he was stressed and pregnant, or tired after running after the kids all day. 

Soon enough, Edelira wanted to go play with the other children, so Lance set her down. She was very friendly and energetic, and she loved to play on the swing sets. Julio was gentler, and generally quite comfortable sitting with one of his parents, so Lance kept a hold of him. He and his mates gravitated towards the shaded patio again, where they joined some of Lance’s other family members around the table. 

They must have only been seated for a few minutes before a voice called, “Watch out!” from the yard. Lance instinctively flinched, turning to shield Julio and his belly from the noise. He heard a thump, and looked up to see Shiro with one of his hands outstretched, where he’d smacked an errant ball out of the air before it could hit his omega or his baby.

“Thanks,” Lance said, surprised. 

This wasn’t the first time one of his mates had reacted to something like that with astounding speed. Once, Edelira had accidentally knocked a cup off the table where Julio was resting on the floor, and Keith – who had been laying on the couch – hauled him up out of the way so fast neither one of the children had realised what had happened. Another time one of the neighbour’s kids had been riding a bike, and hadn’t seen Lance – who’d been pregnant with Julio at the time – coming out of the front gate, and Keith had lifted him right up off his feet and out of the way with a strength that left Lance in shock. 

It never ceased to amaze him how fast their reactions were. His pregnancies seemed to make them hyper-aware of everything around him and the children. Sometimes Lance would find himself caught in one of his mate’s arms before he’d even tripped. It was kind of amazing, actually. His first instincts would always be to shield his children, to protect them at all costs, buts his mates placed him in the same category. 

“Are you alright?” Keith asked, eyeing the stray ball with a distasteful look, as if daring it to try and touch his mate again. He made Lance laugh.

“Absolutely fine, as usual,” he grinned. Julio copied his smile, and it was the perfect distraction for the alphas, who forgot all about the ball.


	81. Allura/Lance - Sugar

The smell of sugar was thick in the air as Lance hand-mixed icing. He leaned one hip against the counter, eyes moving from the bowl cradled in the crook of his arm to the timer sitting on the bench, merrily ticking away. Another minute and his cupcakes would be finished, and they could be set aside to cool. 

When the timer chimed, he set aside the icing, and pulled the tray of cupcakes from the oven. They were nicely risen, some just a bit too much, but he didn’t mind. The cupcakes cooling, he turned to the macarons he’d baked earlier, now ready to assemble. He’d been baking for hours now, but he still wasn’t tired.

Footsteps on the floorboards behind him made him glance up. Allura appeared in the doorway, sleep-tousled and in her pyjamas, one sleeve slipping down to reveal the soft curve of her shoulder. Whenever she woke up and found him gone, she tended to wear a grumpy pout that rivalled all grumpy pouts ever, and he loved it. 

“Why are you awake so early?”

Lance grinned at her, unable to help himself. He had the prettiest girlfriend. “So I can bake, obviously.”

She sighed at him and padded over, peering at the variety of baked goods cooling on the kitchen bench. “What’s keeping you up this time?”

Lance shrugged. He’d never know how Allura could read him so easily; she always knew when he was stressed or upset, even if he tried to hide it. If he were being honest, he did have a few major exams coming up, and they were keeping him up at night. Even sleeping felt like he was wasting time that could be better spent studying. 

Thankfully for him, Allura was perceptive enough to know what was bothering him without him having to say it. After all, she saw him studying, saw his books spread out on tables, saw his exam dates marked on their calendar. Some early-morning baking was just a way of relieving stress, and she probably knew that.

“Smells good,” she finally said, as she put her arms around his waist and her chin over his shoulder. “You did get some sleep last night, didn’t you?”

He hummed, distracted by the way her hands had inched under his shirt to rest against his hipbones. It was an innocent enough gesture, but her hands were cold against his warm skin, and it made him want to shiver. “Some,” he admitted. “Enough.”

Allura paused, before saying, “Alright.”

That was one of the things Lance loved about her. She never questioned his judgement, never assumed to know his limits better than he did. There were times she insisted he rest, but she had an uncanny knack of knowing exactly when the right time to be forceful was. She had a way of convincing him to take care of himself that was gentle and considerate, with only his best interests in her mind.

“Are they vanilla?” Allura asked, eyeing the cupcakes. The change in conversation was very welcome.

“They sure are,” Lance said. “Your favourite. So bland.”

“You mean classic.”

“Bland.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “I’ll eat them all, then.”

“Sharing is caring, my dear,” he countered.

She grinned. After pressing a kiss to his cheek, she scooped up a cupcake and took a big bite, even though they weren’t iced. “Tastes amazing, as usual,” she declared.

Lance smiled, feeling the knot of unease in his chest begin to subside. He had no idea how Allura never failed to cheer him up, but he couldn’t have loved her more for it.


	82. Lance/Shiro - Police

The police precinct was buzzing with activity when Lance was guided in by a junior deputy. He knew his way around this place like the back of his hand, but the officers were always polite to him, always walking him right in so that no one bothered him. 

“Are you sure I can’t get anything for you?” The junior deputy fussed with her hands as she sat him down in one of the empty waiting rooms. She was one of the newer officers, and often gave him and other visitors honest, cheerful smiles. 

“I’m alright,” he assured her, trying to offer her a smile in return. “Can you just tell Shiro– I mean, Captain Shirogane, that I’m here?”

“Of course, no problem. I’ll be right back.”

He kept up the smile until she closed the door behind herself, then let it fall with a sigh. Gingerly, he touched his face with his fingertips, but couldn’t hold back the hissing wince that escaped his lips. His cheek was definitely swelling. When he glanced at himself in his darkened phone screen, he hated what he saw. 

His chin and the side of his face was terribly bruised. It was probably lucky that the hit had been lower than intended, because it meant his eye wasn’t swelling shut. It still stung like hell, but he didn’t think anything was broken, and his lip had stopped bleeding on the way to the precinct. The taste of blood had yet to leave his mouth but at least that meant he hadn’t bitten his tongue into numbness. 

A few sparse minutes passed before the door clicked open, and Captain Shirogane entered. He was wearing his uniform, compete with jacket and hat, probably only recently back from a conference or meeting. He looked as handsome as always, even as a stormy, worried expression plastered itself across his face.

“What happened?” He asked, crouching down in front of the couch Lance was sitting on.

“Got mugged,” Lance said, trying to smile again, but not quite managing this time. He winced as Shiro gently cupped his face, fingers gliding over the bruise. 

“Have you seen a doctor?” 

“Yeah, one of the deputies picked me up from the hospital so I could make a statement.” He didn’t like that so much effort had gone into this, but he knew it was procedure. The guy who had mugged him had gotten away, but deputies had run after him. Hopefully they’d manage to get his phone and wallet back. 

Shiro let out a slow breath, barely concealing his frustration. He took a seat beside Lance and pulled him close, taking Lance’s left hand to fiddle with the ring on his finger. “You want to stay here for the rest of the day? I’ll be stuck in my office doing paperwork. Could use some company.”

Lance bobbed his head in a nod, pursing his lips in an attempt to stop the tears pooling in his eyes. He felt vulnerable and sore. “A day with my husband? How could I refuse?”

“That’s the spirit.” Shiro rubbed his back and pressed a long kiss to the side of his head. He knew that Lance didn’t need anger right now, didn’t need Shiro to go running off after the guy that had hurt him. He just needed his husband’s comfort. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find you some ice for that bruise. I’m sure one of the deputies would be glad to wait on you.”

Lance huffed out a burst of weak laughter. “Only because they love their Captain so much.”

Shiro smiled a little. “More like because they love their Captain’s husband so much. They think you’re more interesting that I am, you know. Nosy little things, they are.”

Lance laughed again, easier this time. It was true – the deputies were incredibly nosy, always trying to pry details of Shiro’s life from him. It had taken them months to realise Shiro’s “partner” was male. But Shiro trusted him, and the precinct was like family. Lance knew that there were no harder workers out there.

Spending a day resting in Shiro’s office was just what he needed after a morning of bad luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My major thesis, amongst countless other major essays, is due this Friday, so I'm only going to be able to manage short pieces until then :')


	83. Keith/Lance - Sneaky

Lance was nesting. He’d always felt nesting urges a little more than the average omega, but it had never really bothered him. His family understood, and when he’d lived at home, they’d always let him borrow their clothes, pillows, bed sheets – whatever he’d wanted. As a result, his nests were always full of soft things, and ridiculously padded, which was just how he liked it. 

Having a mate complicated things a little, he thought.

He’d nested since he’d mated with Keith, but this was the first time he’d go into heat while being off all of his suppressants. That meant all his instincts would come rushing back in as if a dam had been broken, as they were currently doing. More than usual, considering he’d been on suppressants for a while. 

It wasn’t like Keith found his obsessive nesting bothersome. Keith was an omega too, and although he felt instincts way less than a normal omega (quite a pair, they made), he liked how omega Lance became when he was close to heat. He’d never admit it out loud, but Keith liked it when Lance was clingy, Lance could tell. Keith could scowl and grumble about it all he wanted but he couldn’t hide the way his scent smelled so content and happy.

This nesting phase was proving to be a little different than usual, and Lance completely blamed Keith, though not for the reasons one might first assume. Keith would readily hand Lance his clothes, and wouldn’t complain if Lance took them straight from the closet or the laundry basket. And he didn’t mind if Lance nested in their bedroom, thereby taking control of their bed completely. He also didn’t mind when Lance stripped the lounge room bare of all its cushions. 

For the most part, he was very accommodating, actually. More than anyone else, an omega knew what it was like for another omega to enter their heat cycle.

But Keith did draw the line at being part of the nest himself.

Which was Lance’s current predicament.

He couldn’t get enough of Keith’s scent.

It was all over Keith’s clothes, the bed sheets, the couch cushions. Lance had completely saturated his nest in it. Whenever he crawled into his pile of cushions and blankets, he was overwhelmingly comforted by the scent of his mate. It made him want to purr with delight. Keith smelt sort of like campfire smoke mixed with something subtly sweet and it was perfect. 

But it would have been more perfect if Keith would stay in the nest. See, if his omega mate stayed in the nest, then the nest would always smell like him. Lance, in his nesting-addled mind, thought that that was a reasonable request. Having Keith in his nest with him all the time was the best solution to all his problems, he thought. He wanted his omega with him all the time. 

Keith, however, was not very amused by Lance’s antics. Any time Lance tried to keep him in the nest, he always insisted he had more important things to do, like going to work and cooking breakfast. Lance thought these things were inconsequential. He’d tell Keith as much, but Keith would only roll his eyes, and kiss Lance until he was too breathless and dazed to stop him. 

They were sneaky tactics, but they left Lance mollified for a while. After all, almost nothing was better than Keith’s kisses. 

And he was lucky that he could have those any time of the day that he wanted, unlike when he wanted a few more minutes with Keith in their nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this didn't post last night even though it seemed like it did to me, so this is technically for yesterday aha


	84. Keith/Lance - Dance

A glass of top-shelf liquor titled dangerously in Keith’s loose fingers, threatening to spill golden liquid over the club floor. His eyes tracked the whirlpool the liquid made as he slowly twirled it in his fingertips, before his eyes dragged up to the dancefloor, staring out from under hooded lids.

There, amidst the crowd of throbbing bodies and flashing strobe lights, was an alpha. He’s tall and dark-skinned, dark hair getting sweat-damp at the ends, sticking to the slope of the back of his neck. Broad shoulders are framed by a cropped, sleeveless turtleneck. A petite waist, jutting hipbones and a small, sinful curve at the small of his back leads to leather-clad legs. He’s wearing white shoes that glow with black light, flashing blue soles any time his feet lift.

A confident, teasing smirk completed the outfit. Keith knew that little smile all too well.

He’s not the only one who’s noticed the alpha on the dancefloor. An aura like that draws eyes from all dynamics. Lounging alphas sprawled across the booths bordering the room watched him with intense fascination. Omegas dancing gravitated around him like moths drawn to flames. A beta briefly grabbed the alpha by the hips, and for a song, they dance together. Soon the flow of the room changed, as it always does in clubs, and another body replaced the beta, another set of hands claimed the alpha.

He’s beautiful and he knows it.

And just like the others, Keith is enraptured. 

A little smirk of his own played on his lips. He hides it behind his glass, swallowing the rest of his drink. Despite how relaxed he looked, it was only his first. He wasn’t here to drink, even though the club offered only the very best. There was something better for him to do.

He waited until the song changed to stand. Leaving the empty glass at his empty booth, he stepped onto the dancefloor. Eyes glanced towards him, but he kept his gaze somewhere else, on someone else. The crowd parted with ease. The closer he got, the more he could smell the alpha’s scent, something as cool and fresh as water, mixed with a sweetness that only came from satisfaction. It was intoxicating.

The moment he was in reach, Keith grabbed the alpha by the hips, sliding his hands along warm, bare skin. The alpha let out a pleased rumble, one Keith could feel reverberating through his chest as he pulled him close. He put his chin over the alpha’s shoulder, letting his body follow the alpha’s rhythm, his eyes sharp, daring anyone to interrupt them.

“Jealous?” The alpha teased.

“Hardly,” Keith said. “You know who you belong to.”

“I could say the same for you,” he purred, reaching a hand back to tangle his fingers in Keith’s hair.

“That you could,” Keith wholeheartedly agreed. “You’re such a tease, Lance.”

“You love it.”

Keith didn’t deny it. He closed his eyes, face pressed against Lance’s shoulder. He could feel every point they were connected in sharp detail. Music pounded through his head as he followed the swaying and twisting of Lance’s hips. He couldn’t dance, but he could read Lance’s body better than he could read a book, and that was pretty much the same thing.

“If your plan was to stake a claim, I don’t think it’s worked,” Lance said.

“Oh?” Keith thought it was working pretty damn well, actually. He knew he had one hell of a glare on him, and even when it wasn’t out in full force, people didn’t usually approach him when he was acting so unapproachable.

Lance hummed. He twisted around, resting his arms around Keith’s shoulders, pressed against him from stomach to thighs. “Two handsome alphas on the dancefloor? Now everyone’s looking.”

Keith snorted, amused. He was aware that Lance was the life of the club, but he doubted he had the same effect, even when standing beside Lance. But he couldn’t deny that there was something exciting about it, being looked at like they were being looked at. Like they were desirable. Made even more desirable because they were together, and it was clear they weren’t looking to be joined by anyone else.

Alpha pairs were rare, but Keith loved Lance more than anyone. Loved him enough to come to clubs and watch him be flattered from every angle, knowing full well that Lance would never, ever take anyone else up on their offers. After all, Lance loved him just as much as he loved Lance. And he loved getting Keith to dance.

As if Keith wouldn’t want to get his hands all over his mate.

“You don’t even realise how pretty you are,” Lance cooed, touching Keith’s face with an affectionate hand. “Good thing you’re all mine, huh?”

Keith smirked. “All yours.”


	85. Lance/Shiro - Relax

Trying to get Shiro to cooperate was a lot like trying to bath a cat, Lance thought. With a great deal of force and a touch of pleading bribery, it was manageable. It took some convincing, but eventually Lance managed to get Shiro exactly where he wanted him.

It was all for Shiro’s benefit, anyway. 

See, Lance could tell when Shiro was unusually stressed. His boyfriend tended to carry his stress in his back and shoulders, and not only did it made him tense, but it left him vaguely sore and stiff, too. Shiro had a habit of rolling his shoulders or trying to sleep without a pillow to lessen the strain on his neck when he was getting sore from stress. It was especially bad on his amputated arm, where his shoulder joint had to make up for the weight of his prosthetic. 

It wasn’t like every little stressful situation needed intervention on behalf of a concerned boyfriend. Little stresses could be solved with a decent cup of tea, a night off from chores, and a good night’s sleep. It was rare that Lance found himself truly concerned with the amount of stress Shiro was dealing with. But he liked to pamper his boyfriend, so if he had to manhandle Shiro into it, then using his health as an excuse was the perfect way to get Shiro to relent.

Lance thought the best way to pamper someone was to treat them to a little spa session. He had Shiro take a long, hot bath complete with sweet-scented bath bomb, and then set him down on the couch so Lance could buff his nails and massage his hands with cream. Shiro wasn’t very into beauty products, but he let Lance do as he wished. Face creams were next, complete with a soft headband to keep Shiro’s hair away from his forehead.

The evening was a quiet one, all in all. Lance lit his favourite candles and made tea so that Shiro didn’t have to leave the couch. He made Shiro wear the bathrobe he’d bought for him last Christmas and put on old cartoons. He was pretty sure Shiro fell asleep halfway through Lance massaging small, gentle circles along Shiro’s brow and down towards his cheeks. If Lance spent a little longer than necessary tracing lines down Shiro’s nose and around his scar, then no one had to know. Especially not if Lance left a little kiss where his fingertips had been.

By the end of it, Shiro was definitely more relaxed than he had been a few hours ago. He was boneless and melty, eyes dazed with sleepy contentedness. He looked less like a wet cat and more like one that had gotten the cream. Convincing him to get up and go to bed was almost harder than convincing him to let himself be pampered.

But Lance loved him, and he’d do anything he could to give Shiro a well-earned break. That’s what Shiro would do for him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally submitted my thesis tonight - I don't think I can stomach looking at another piece of Greek mythology for at least a month aha. I'll have to edit this, and the last few pieces at time because I am far too exhausted to do it tonight. But at least the thesis is finally done :')


	86. Keith/Lance - Wish

Lance was asleep for a long time. It was like dreaming, in a way, only he couldn’t wake when he wanted to, and he was unable to see anything, not even images conjured by his mind. Lonely, he’d call it.

The last time he’d been awake, he’d been with Alfor. The man was kind to him, and treated him like a son. He’d promised to never take advantage of the things Lance could do, and he never did. He never pushed Lance’s boundaries, never made him do things he was morally against, not like others had. He hadn’t wasted the time he had with Lance.

And for a while, he’d let Lance feel like he was living a real human life.

But all humans changed, after time. Even someone who started out as good as Alfor. 

Sending Lance back to sleep was always somewhat painful. It felt like he was being pulled apart into a dozen different pieces. Everything went dark around the edges, and then ceased to exist. It never became easier, no matter how many times it happened. 

That was life for someone like him. Someone who could grant wishes, someone who could make the unreal real. It was only something he could do a certain amount of times for each person who woke him, but humans were greedy for more, always wanting more than he could give. Alfor had been different, using Lance’s gifts for good, for making the world more beautiful. He’d used all but the last wish, promising to let Lance live as he wanted. 

But he’d used the last wish, eventually. 

Like they all did.

And so Lance returned to sleep. It was a curse just as much as it was a blessing. Sleep gave him the chance to regain his energy, to recover from granting wishes. But it also trapped him in endless limbo, one he could never escape on his own. He was defenceless and alone.

A book kept him trapped. Sometimes he feared that it would be burnt while he slept, that someone would tear the pages, or place him on a shelf to gather dust for years and years, never to be touched again. He had no choice as to where he slept – people like him were bound to objects that meant a great deal to the person who first made a wish on them.

After Alfor, Lance started to wonder if he ever wanted to wake up again. As years passed, the wishes he was ordered to grant became harder and harder, full of promises he didn’t want to keep. Alfor had been different, but in the end, he too had sealed Lance away.

The time did come once more when Lance felt someone pry open the pages of his book. Sometimes people read without waking him, flicking through pages with absentminded hands. Wishes couldn’t be granted to just anyone who found an object with someone like him trapped inside. They had to want it. To be drawn to the right page, read aloud the right passage. Not everyone did.

But this person did.

Waking was less painful than sleeping. Lance would never know what it looked like to the person who held his book, but for him it felt like surfacing from beneath water. Bits and pieces of himself floated together, formed a whole person, and with a flash of gently glowing light, he found himself in a new world, staring at a new face.

A young face, this time.

“What…?”

This was the part Lance hated the most – the explaining. Some humans accepted it right away, but others remained in denial for days. It was always the same: you have this many wishes, no I’m not a demon, you can use your wishes for almost anything but please nothing bad, no I’m not a genie. Humans were bizarre.

This one seemed… alright. He had a naturally grouchy face, with thick brows and a sharp jawline. His hair was dark, falling between his eyes, and just a little too long at the back. His eyes were almost violet in this lighting. Handsome, Lance thought. And quick on the uptake.

“You mean you can grant wishes,” the human said, matter of fact. 

“Yes,” Lance answered. He tried not to roll his eyes as he glanced about the room they were in. It was more of a library, with impossibly high ceilings and impossibly high bookshelves. Curved stairways led to a second level, and each bookshelf was equipped with a ladder. He’d never seen so many books. “But like I said, nothing bad. I can’t make every wish come true.”

The human regarded him with suspicious eyes, leaning back in his chair. He’d been sitting at a table with Lance’s book spread before him when he’d murmured the passage to himself, thus summoning Lance. Unfortunately for Lance, he’d appeared on the table, face inches away from the human’s. He really preferred it when people read his book standing.

“What can’t you do?” The human questioned.

Lance tried to think of some of the wishes people had asked him for. “Transform humans into someone like me, end all wars – sounds idyllic, but trust me, it would just make other things worse – give humans endless amounts of worth, make one human fall in love with another, give a human wings…” He checked them off on his fingers as he want. “Things that would disrupt the natural balance, I guess. I don’t know. I just get a sense for when a wish can’t be fulfilled when it’s asked for.”

“And if I don’t have any wishes?”

Lance gave the human a startled look. That was something that had never been asked before, and he was sure his shock registered on his face.

“How do I send you back?” The human pressed.

Cringing, Lance turned his face away. “Not sure, to be honest. Most humans use up their wishes real quick. For the record, I can’t grant more wishes.”

“I don’t have anything to wish for. Just go back in the book.” The human pushed the book across the table towards Lance, where a passage in the centre of a block of text was missing. That’s where Lance had come from.

“I can’t go back in on my own,” Lance said, “I don’t know how.” It was true. He’d never tried to get back into his book on his own because he’d never needed to. And to be perfectly honest, he wanted to spend some time in the sun. Sleeping was a cold experience. “You really don’t have anything you want…?”

The human gave him a long, quiet look. “You don’t want to go back in?”

Lance shrunk into his shoulders. “That obvious?”

Shrugging, the human flipped the book shut. “Fine. Just go do your thing, I guess.”

Lance didn’t have anything to do. Before he could help himself, he blurted out, “Do you know someone called Alfor?”

“Alfor Altea?” The human frowned, stilling. “What about him?”

“Is he…” Lance licked his lips, heart thudding. “Is he alive?”

The human paused for a moment. “No.”

“Oh.” He didn’t expect to feel so empty at that. The last time he’d seen Alfor, the man had been frenzied, begging for Lance’s forgiveness before making his last wish. It was all such a blur. “How did he…?”

“Old age, I think. But he was never the same after his wife died,” the human said quietly. “How did you know him?”

Lance lowered his eyes. He rested a hand over his book, tracing the gold lettering along the front. He’d never really learned how to read human script, but it looked pretty. “He promised he’d never send me back in here,” he muttered.

“You mean he knew about you?”

“How do you know him, anyway?” Lance asked.

“This is the Altea estate,” the human said, like it was obvious. “His daughter owns it now. She’s my friend.”

Lance blinked. He searched his memory, trying to remember what had happened on the day his last wish was used. It slowly came back to him. “The child survived?” His surprise was obvious.

“Yes.” The human frowned again. Maybe it was his natural expression. “They said it was a… miracle. But it was you, wasn’t it? Did Alfor use a wish to help Allura live?”

Lance remembered there being complications in the pregnancy. Alfor’s wife had been a lovely, warm woman. The type of human everyone loved, regardless of how well they knew her. She’d glowed with pregnancy. Lance could remember her singing to her swelling stomach. The day she’d unexpectedly gone into labour had been horrible. There’d been blood, and she’d been in so much pain…

The doctor had said the baby wouldn’t survive. That if it did, she would die. She’d forced Alfor to choose the child over her, so deeply in love with her baby that she couldn’t bear the thought of surviving if it died. When they’d made the decision to try and save the baby, she’d died.

And then the baby had started to die, too.

Started.

Lance couldn’t give life to a human, not even if they truly deserved it. But for someone with a heart as gentle as Alfor’s, who had made him feel so alive, he could help save one. When Alfor had wished for his baby to live, Lance had made it happen. He barely remembered it because it had happened so fast. Then he was sleeping again.

“And the baby is called Allura?” He asked.

“Well, she’s not a baby anymore,” the human said. “She’s grown up now. She runs the estate.”

“I see.” Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about this. The people he’d known last time he’d been in this world were long gone, and while that was what usually happened, he felt the loss of those humans particularly deeply. The taste of freedom he’d been given had made loving them easier. 

He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Pursing his lips, he pushed the book back across the table. “If you want me to go back into the book, all you need to do is use up all your wishes. They don’t have to be big, or important. Just wish for a vase of flowers, or for your favourite food.” The amount of wishes was never the same – it depended on the extent of each wish. Lots of little ones could stretch Lance out for longer. But he always knew when his wishes were nearing their end. It wouldn’t take too many for him to disappear.

“That’s not fair to you though, is it?” The human asked. “Alfor promised to never send you back. Maybe we owe it to you to fulfil that promise.”

It was Lance’s turn to frown. “That’s not your promise to keep.”

“No, but Alfor did a lot of good for people like me,” the human said. “And I’m sure Allura would like to meet you, too. I can’t imagine being stuck in this thing for years is any fun, is it?”

It certainly wasn’t. But Lance couldn’t stay out of it without wishes tethering him to the world. “It’s just… uncomfortable for me to be here, without doing anything.” He paused, and met the human’s eyes. “You really don’t want to send me back?”

The human shook his head.

“Not now, or not ever, do you mean?”

“Not ever, if I can help it.”

“And if you can’t? Alfor couldn’t.”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” the human huffed, clearly fed up with Lance’s rapid-fire questions. “Look, if I make a wish, then will you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me think.”

They were both quiet for a while. Lance amused himself by looking around, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the library. He’d really never seen anything like it.

“There is something I might want,” the human said, slowly, like he was afraid of admitting it out loud. Caught by surprise, Lance returned his gaze to the human, wondering what had caused him to suddenly become so nervous. It seemed out of character. “But I don’t know if you can help.”

Lance shrugged. “Won’t know until you ask.” 

“My brother, he…” The human swallowed. “He was hurt in an accident a while ago, and he’s still in a lot of pain. He thinks he can hide it, but I know. No doctor has been able to help. It was a pretty serious injury.”

“How serious?”

“He lose his arm from it.”

“I can’t give him his arm back,” Lance warned.

The human waved an impatient hand. “That’s not what I was going to ask. I just want to know if you can help with the pain. Make it easier for him to get around, to use his shoulder. I just… I just hate seeing him hurting so much.”

Lance felt oddly touched by the human’s heartfelt confession. Maybe this human would be different from all the others, even Alfor. Maybe there was a reason this human specifically had found him. Thinking that left him feeling oddly hopeful.

“I think I may be able to help with that,” he said. “I’m Lance.”

“Keith,” the human said.

“Lead the way, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one for some reason ^^


	87. Keith/Lance - Demon

Sometimes, Lance wasn’t Lance. It was like his mind switched off, or was moved elsewhere, somewhere disconnected from his body. His hands were no longer his hands, his legs no longer his legs, his words no longer his words. It was terrifying.

His grandmother always said he had a demon living in him, that his blood had been polluted at birth, and when his emotions ran out of control, so too did the demon. She’d raised him to be careful of his words, of his feelings. When it became too much – when the gaps in his memory began to widen – she sent him to live in the mountains on his own.

It wasn’t too lonely, no matter what others assumed. He had a sprawling view of the ocean in the distance, and there were lots of birds and other forest creatures that felt safe enough to live close by his house. Once a week he’d walk down to the mountain path where a truck would deliver groceries and household supplies. It was hell carrying it all back up the path, but it gave him something to do.

Spending time in the mountains gave him time to research. There were a lot of books in the house, some that had undoubtedly belonged to his grandmother when she was his age. Stories of cursed children who shared their bodies with demons, or at least something that was close enough to be called that. Sudden, unexpected pregnancies, or births where the child almost died, seemed to be the cause of the curse. Apparently, the child’s tie to the world became so weak that it allowed something otherworldly to latch on.

Lance didn’t know the details of his birth, but he could guess it wasn’t easy. His grandmother always treated him gently, and was sterner than usual when he was ill, insisting he rest for days. She’d watch him as if she were expecting him to disappear. 

He sort of did, when the demon took over.

It had happened a few times now. The first time he woke up deep in the forest, the trees around him broken and marked by deep gouges. His hands and arms had been covered in scratches, and his clothing had been in tatters. It was worse the second time. He hurt himself badly, and he’d woken covered in his blood. It didn’t get easier the next time. No, it became much worse.

He woke up covered in blood that didn't belong to him.

His grandmother promised him that he hadn’t killed anyone, but he didn’t know if he should believe her or not. He’d scoured the newspapers for clues, but his grandmother had promptly sent him off to the mountains, and he had no way of knowing what he’d done when he’d lost himself. 

In any case, it was easier to control his emotions when he was alone. The noise of the town and the city distracted him, but it was quiet out here. Isolated. No one ever came this deep into the woods. He was free to spend his days reading and cleaning, and doing other things to waste time. There was no telling how long he had to live alone out in the mountains, but if it meant never hurting anyone ever again, then maybe it would be best if he never left.

Of course, the world didn’t work so easily. There was a balance, his grandmother said, one that meant things couldn’t always be good or bad, that it had to fluctuate. He thought things had been pretty good, lately. Nothing bad had happened. He could relax, secure in the knowledge that he was alone where he couldn’t hurt anyone.

Until people came to find him, that was.

He was out in the garden when they arrived. He hadn’t heard them approach, but the birds had suddenly scattered, and then there they were. There were two of them, both male, one with a scar across his nose and the other with strange indigo eyes. They were wearing unusual clothes – a sort of black uniform, tightly fitted, with a heavy black jacket. 

They looked at him like he was dangerous.

Uneasy, Lance stepped back towards his house. “Who are you?”

“We’re here to help,” the one with the scar said, extending a hand. 

“I think you should go,” Lance said, stepping back again. He’d become so used to being alone that suddenly having other people around was making his heart race. His gaze kept darting to the one with the indigo eyes, like a magnet. There was something about him that made Lance’s stomach twist. He didn’t know if it was in a good or bad way.

The one with the scar opened his mouth to speak again, wearing a friendly but hesitant expression, but his violet-eyed companion impatiently stepped forwards. 

“It’ll be easier to show you,” he said, reaching beneath his jacket to reveal a dagger. “So just hold still.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. “No…”

He ran. 

Quicker than humanly possible, the one with indigo eyes caught up with him, brandishing the dagger. Lance scrambled out of the way, his heart clenching. He rounded the path to the side of the house and launched himself inside. The frames on the walls rattled as he dashed down the hallway, footsteps heavy and clumsy.

He could hear indigo eyes catching up. He was faster than Lance, and he had a weapon. Fear crawled up Lance’s throat like something slick and poisonous. Darker emotions had always built in him like an avalanche, threatening to release the demon if pushed too far. It was never excitement or joy that changed him. It was always fear, anxiety, sadness. Things he didn’t want to feel.

A hand latched onto his shoulder, spinning him around painfully fast. He hit the wall with a muffled shout, and just had enough time to flinch to the side before the dagger buried itself into the wall beside his head. 

“Don’t be afraid,” indigo eyes said, voice low and deep, as his gaze bore into Lance’s face.

As if he couldn’t be. Lance pushed the man away, his vision swimming with black dots. He stumbled towards the living room, but he was once again caught, and felt the press of the dagger at the back of his neck. 

“Stop,” he choked out, trying to squirm away, “you don’t understand, you don’t–”

An inhuman whine throttled his words. He jerked his shoulders back, unable to help himself, as that yawning hole inside him began to split open.

He couldn’t do this again. It became worse every time, and last time he probably killed someone, or at least badly hurt them. These people didn’t understand! 

“Don’t be afraid,” the man murmured again.

Lance couldn’t help it. He cried out, his voice human and thin before it became monstrous, distorting and twisting in ways humans couldn’t scream. He tried to get away, but he couldn’t. The overwhelming feeling of losing himself was crashing over his head.

And then, suddenly, it was gone.

The howling coming from him died away until all that was left were his hiccupping cries. The feeling of being pulled apart slowly receded, taking with it all his energy. He felt his heart give one, then two painful throbs before it settled back into a normal rhythm. He was so exhausted that he went boneless, forehead pressed to the lounge room floor.

“What…?” He croaked.

The man pulled his blade away from Lance’s neck and sheathed it. Crouching, he hauled Lance upright, and let him rest against his knees. Lance was close enough to him that he could feel the man shaking. “You’re alright,” he said quietly, touching Lance’s face with a gloved hand. “Just breathe.”

“What did you do?” Lance asked, voice weak and shaky. He was trembling, too. He’d never been able to stop the demon from taking over. It was why his grandmother sent him here, why he had to live alone. It was impossible to control.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

“It worked?” The one with the scar said, as he made it to the lounge room. 

“It did.”

“What did?” Lance demanded as harshly as he could. 

Indigo eyes glanced down at him, his face surprisingly open. “I can stop it,” he said, confident, like he’d had a sudden realisation. “Your transformation. I can stop it.”

Lance could feel himself losing consciousness. “Wish you could’ve stopped it before,” he forced out. Before he’d hurt someone.

“Don’t worry,” indigo eyes said, his grip tightening on Lance. It was surprisingly comforting, more than Lance would have expected for someone who had just had a knife pressed to his neck. Who was this strange person, and why did he have such a strong effect on Lance? It made no sense.

“You can rest easy now,” the one with the scar said. “I assure you, you won’t come to harm in our presence. Nor will you do anyone else any harm.”

For some reason, Lance believed him. The results said his words were true, in any case. He had no idea how indigo eyes had stopped the demon, but he had. That had to count for something. He’d never read anything in the books about people being able to stop demons, but if these people could… then maybe they could help him.

Maybe they could make sure he never hurt anyone else again.

And if he did, maybe they could stop him. Permanently.

He kept his gaze locked with indigo eyes as he slowly lost consciousness, but all he saw was honesty.


	88. Keith/Lance - Sea

Their second mistake was underestimating Lance’s love for Keith.

Their first was underestimating his love for the ocean.

It was a thing of unbridled power, the water. He’d always lived beside the shore, had grown up leaning to swim in the shallows before he could walk. Even from his earliest memories, he could recall thinking that there was only one truth to the world. He knew, simply, that the ocean would remain for far longer than he would, than anyone would. 

His father had been afflicted with the same disastrous love. He used to say that human bodies were made from the ocean, that the salt in tears, the water in blood, the air in lungs, it was all a mixture of the sea. That everyone was made from the sea and it would always be that way, no matter how much land stretched between a body and the shore.

When he’d tell those stories, sitting on the rock pools with Lance tucked under his arm, their toes wiggled into sand or dipped into shallow ponds of saltwater, it was easy to believe that the ocean was not merely a body of water, but an entity all of its own. His father taught him to love the ocean like he would love any other person, and so it took up the greatest portion of Lance’s heart he could give to another. 

It had always been that way.

It would always be that way.

Even now, he could feel the ocean connected deeply to his heart. It was angry, churning and tumbling over itself, forcing waves to the surface again and again. The ship was tossed about like a piece of driftwood. Already the sailors had lost control of it, and with it their self-control.

A hand came down on Lance’s cheek. He hit the deck hard, tasting seawater as waves crashed over the railing of the tilted ship. It didn’t matter how hard he was beaten. He couldn’t find back, not with his hands bound behind his back. Any misstep and they’d turn their attacks on Keith, who watched with his mouth gagged from across the deck. 

If the price of Keith’s safety was his pain, then Lance would bear it.

“This whelp doesn’t know anything, we should kill him…” 

Lance, unbidden, thrashed in his bonds, biting down on the gag crammed into his mouth. He looked up at his captors, vision blurred by the rain that refused to stop falling. A day ago he’d been at peace, living by the ocean, tending to its needs. He collected shells that washed ashore to sell, fashioning them into charms and jewellery. His customers said he had a way with the sea, that it only washed ashore the prettiest shells when it knew Lance was looking. He told them that it was more likely that the sea had its way with him, that all it was doing was showing him the same love he showed it in any way it could.

Rumours of power could be dangerous things, especially to those who made an illegal living off roaming the oceans. Pirates and bandits built ragged ships to steal away from the laws of the land, making their own immoral codes to live by. They’d steal into ports at night and plunder towns, taking money and supplies and anyone with a pretty face to use however they wished. 

They took people they thought could benefit them, too. The children of wealthy parents who’d pay a fortune for their loved ones back, the beloved mayors of towns that could be paid for in treaties and contracts, the captains of rival ships that could be both a bartering tool and an entertaining plaything. They took people rumoured to have powers, too. People who were said to be unusually lucky, or those said to be able to perfectly predict the weather. People like Lance, who were rumoured to be favoured by the sea.

It wasn’t working out so well for the people who had stolen him from his home and his beloved shore.

Partially because they’d stolen Keith, too.

Lance didn’t love people as easily as he loved the ocean, especially not people like Keith. They argued and bickered, and for a long time, they hadn’t been able to stand being around each other. But as all things went, the tension between them changed, and something new was born. Bickering became less about hurting feelings and more about hiding affectionate teasing, and their stubborn aversion to each other’s presence became a stubborn aversion to being without one another. 

They were like fire and water, others said.

But whatever they had, it worked.

Across the deck, their eyes met. Keith was angry, filled with a raging temper that burned hotter than a wildfire. He struggled against his bonds with increasing frustration as bruises and marks bloomed across Lance’s skin. Even thinking that he would be hurt made Lance’s heart lurch and ache. He couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to Keith because he’d been caught up in Lance’s kidnapping. 

He wished they were home. Wished they were walking along the beach beside their little house, or sitting on the front stop watching the moon dip beneath the distant waves. Sometimes Keith would accompany Lance when he went searching for shells, and through Lance, he too came to love the ocean. It was the same as when Lance grew to appreciate the warmth of a campfire, or the hypnotizing way flames danced in their fireplace.

But more than wishing for the comforts of home, Lance wished that Keith would be safe. If he did have a connection to the ocean, if it did love him as much as he loved it, then surely it cared for Keith, too. If anything happened to him, he begged it to keep Keith safe, to care for Keith in Lance’s stead.

Perhaps it were those thoughts that made the waters surge.

A love like Lance’s could not be contained just in himself. It was the type of emotion to be carried away by currents, to need the ebb and flow of a tide to live. And all his life, Lance had lived by the sea, pouring his heart and soul into it. 

Now it came to his aid.

Underestimating his love for the sea would be their downfall.

A break in the howling wind stilled the flailing sails. Lance felt something icy cold surge in him. A glow built in his eyes, bluer than the water on a clear night. The ship groaned as the water thrashed beneath it. Wood splintered, tearing apart in places that had pieces of the ship falling into the waiting maw of the ocean. There were screams and shouts. Unbalanced, Lance slid along the wet deck as the boat tipped dangerously to one side.

Across the deck, Keith shouldered the man keeping him captive. There was a struggle, but Keith was nothing if not a fighter, and he knew how to play dirty. It took seconds for him to overpower his captor, and mere moments for him to snap the rope around his hands against a jutting rail, pulling them free. He removed his gag as he rushed for Lance, pulling the cloth free from Lance’s mouth, too.

“This is you,” Keith said. “And your eyes…” Emotions jolted across his face like the flick of a fish’s fin. He was still angry, but not at Lance. Instead, when he looked at Lance, he looked overcome with something fragile and fierce. “I always knew there was something amazing about you.”

Lance couldn’t speak. He felt like that if he tried, all that would come out was the sound of rushing waves. He could feel the ocean moving in him, through him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Except the feeling he’d felt when he first realised he was in love with Keith.

Keith freed Lance’s hands and pulled him close, wet arms going around Lance’s waist to help him stand. He wasn’t afraid of the ocean, not like their captors were. It was like the thought of being afraid of it had never crossed his mind. Like being afraid of one of the most destructive, dangerous forces in the world wasn’t something he’d ever thought about.

But he had no need to. Lance loved him, and so did the sea. 

It would always protect them.


	89. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Snowstorm

Shiro was starting to hate coming home.

It was strange to think that. He liked having time off, liked not having to work in his down time, but lately those opinions had started to shift a little. It was for a hopeless reason, because of course it was, but still. He didn’t like coming home.

Mostly because he was pining after his workmates. 

When it really came down to it, that was the root of his problem. As the manager of one of Altea Industries’ more lucrative departments, he was always busy with work. Making schedules, meeting deadlines, sitting through board meetings to decide what investments to back for the financial year… it was a never ending list of things to do. Coming home used to be the only way he could escape from the work, even if some of it usually ended up on his kitchen bench. 

But it was different now.

In the last year, Shiro had acquired a new personal assistant. Lance was bubbly and outwardly confident, always striding around the office with the ease of someone who knew they were fantastic at their job, which he was. The first thing Shiro had noticed about him was his scent – fresh like water, with something undeniably sweet and omega. He was one of the few people Shiro had met that didn’t immediately react to his prosthetic. In fact, Lance never acted differently around him at all. People usually took some time to adjust to the fact that he was missing an arm, but it didn’t faze Lance. 

With Lance came his alpha mate.

Keith was shorter than Shiro, and very attractive. Dark hair, pale skin, broad shoulders. He had an unmistakably strong scent, one that appealed to Shiro quite a bit. When he stood next to Lance, Shiro could see why they made such a perfect pair. They bickered and were affectionate and treated each other like equals. 

God, how Shiro wanted something like that for himself.

It took him a few months to get to know the pair on a level that went beyond work relations. They’d share lunch on busy days, go to drinks are making successful deals, and Keith and Lance would even accompany him when he took his dog, Laika, for walks on Saturday mornings. They’d get bagels from a bakery on the route and eat in the local park. 

A few months more and Shiro was pitifully in love with them.

It wasn’t like polyamorous relationships were uncommon. Triads were the most common type of relationship after mated pairs. But Shiro doubted Keith or Lance would be interested in him that way. It wasn’t purposeful, but a lot of omegas took one look at his arm and backed off. He didn’t blame them. Some instinct probably told them he wouldn’t be able to protect them, that he was damaged goods. Not to mention the scars were ugly.

And some people didn’t want a third in their relationship, anyway. Neither Keith nor Lance showed any inclination that they wanted that.

So Shiro pined. Hard. Not only was he in love with them, but he was in love with their relationship. He loved the way they made each other feel safe, the way they were so in tune with each other’s emotions. It was everything he wanted in a relationship for himself. He loved being around them so much that he hated going home to an empty house. 

Said empty house was where he was currently moping. It had been a long, cold day at work. A frigid snowstorm was blowing in, and the power grid was being finicky, too strained under the sheer amount of heaters being run. Shiro was lucky – his high-rise apartment never had outages because it was just outside the city’s main grid. 

He was surprised when his phone rang with an incoming call from Keith. It was an unusual time at night to be ringing, but it wasn’t like he’d ever deny a call from them.

“Is your heater running?”

Always so straight to the point. Shiro liked that. “Yes,” he said, as he sat at one of the kitchen barstools, one hand curled around a cup of tea. “Why?”

“Ours is out, and the apartment is freezing,” Keith growled. Something about the rumble in his voice made Shiro sit up straighter. “Can we come over?”

“Of course,” Shiro said, surprised. He guessed that Keith’s instincts were all riled up because his omega was cold. They both knew Lance didn’t like it when it was cold – he complained about it enough around the office. 

Keith let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks.”

When the call was ended, Shiro spent a good minute staring at his phone, wondering what had just happened. Then he glanced around his apartment, and spent the next twenty minutes frantically cleaning as much as he could. He wasn’t a messy person, but thinking about Keith and Lance stepping foot in through the front door made all the little messes look twice as disastrous. Laika, always so helpful, watched him from the dog bed in the lounge room. 

Keith and Lance arrived with an overnight bag and an armful of takeaway containers. They shuffled inside and let out groans at the warmth that awaited them. Keith was hovering around Lance more than usual, helping him out of his outer layers, taking the bags from him. When he looked torn between putting the bags away in the spare bedroom and staying by Lance, Shiro took the bags from him and did that instead. He was a little embarrassed by his overwhelming need to take care of the two of them, but it could be blamed on the weather.

“It’s so warm in here,” Lance sighed, as he sank down onto the couch and wiggled his toes in the carpet. “Thanks for letting us come over, Shiro. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all.” It really wasn’t. Already Shiro could smell their scents mingling with his own, and it made his heart race. He brought out cups of tea to distract himself. As he went back to the kitchen to get plates for the food, he sensed Keith following him, and gave him an inquisitive look.

“Thank you for helping us,” Keith said, his voice oddly serious. His eyes hadn’t lost their sharp edge yet, and Shiro could smell that he was still in a metaphoric alpha-mode, determined to take care of those around him. 

“Like I said, it’s no problem,” Shiro repeated, smiling. 

Keith made a small rumbly noise, and without any hint of embarrassment, stepped forwards to rub their cheeks together. Almost instantly his scent overwhelmed Shiro, clinging to his skin in a way that clearly said _this person is mine._ He was so surprised by the gesture that all he did was stand there, blushing right up to the tips of his ears.

From the other room, he heard Lance make an inquisitive, omega trill. Shiro could smell his interest for what was going on, and then his overwhelming approval. The scent of a happy omega was addicting.

“Come on, I want to warm up Lance,” Keith said, taking Shiro by the elbow to drag him back to the lounge room, the plates in tow. He didn’t notice that Shiro had completely stopped functioning, and probably chose to ignore the way Shiro was going redder than a tomato. 

Keith had just _scented him._

And Lance _approved._

How was Shiro meant to think straight when all that was going through his head were those words? His evident embarrassment seemed to amuse Lance, who laughed when he caught sight of Shiro, and made a grabby gesture for him. 

“Silly alpha,” he teased, rubbing their cheeks together too.

They must have known he liked them. Maybe it was obvious, with the way he acted around them, even if he tried to hide it. Letting them come into his house – his den – without any problems was probably a big damn indication of how much he wanted them around. Alphas didn’t go around letting just anyone into their homes, after all.

More than them knowing he liked them, however, was the fact that they liked him back.

They liked him back.

Shiro was never going to stop blushing. Especially not when Keith sat down on his other side, caging him in between them.

He’d never been gladder for a snowstorm.


	90. Keith/Lance - Silence

Lance was yawning as he stretched out on the couch, limbs askew in every possible direction. All of his muscles were tense and tired or on the verge of melting, with no in between. It was currently the time of night where he started to become incredibly sleepy, no matter how little or how much activity he’d done during the day, or how much rest he’d had the previous evening.

It wasn’t so bad, no matter how bothersome it sounded. His natural body clock just didn’t like it when he stayed up too late, that as was all. Heading to bed at a reasonable time of the night usually let him have a more peaceful sleep. He had a sort of routine, he supposed. One he liked to follow when his job allowed. 

He and Keith would ha a routine, after long days like this. As much as Lance loved relaxing and lounging around on the couch, Keith felt just the same, even if he’d never admit it out loud. After dinner, and any household chores that had to be done, they’d collapse on the couch and put on some random show or a movie and just… relax.

It was nice. Quiet. Lance never thought he’d come to enjoy the silence they shared as much as he did. He was a loud guy, the type of person always making noise, always chattering, always swamped by thoughts circling in his head. The silence used to unnerve him, but now he’d come to enjoy it when he shared it with Keith. He felt like they knew each other well enough that words were no longer needed, especially not after long, tiring days.

That evening, it was raining. Lance loved the rain. He could hear it pattering against the roof, and when the wind changed, it hit the windows. The sound of the rain made his eyes droop. He was laid across the couch, head resting comfortably in Keith’s lap, his eyes only partially focused on the television. At some point Keith’s hands had dropped to his face, one running through his hair, the other tracing the lightest of patterns over his cheek and down his neck, where the collar of his nightshirt had slipped down enough to reveal bare skin. It felt good. 

Sometimes they’d sit the other way around, with Keith draped across him, but tonight it seemed that Lance was the tireder one. He sunk into Keith’s gentle affections and let them lull him into a state of half-sleep. Keith wasn’t very affectionate by nature, so the times when he was, Lance had learned to cherish. They were becoming more frequent moments these days, especially when they shared a companionable silence. Lance knew that Keith spoke better with actions than words, so maybe their ability to share a silence comforted him in some way. 

In any case, Lance was soon drifting off to sleep, completely at ease with his boyfriend beside him. There was no other place he’d rather be.


	91. Keith/Lance - Dizzying

Keith was half-crazed by the time he found an empty house. He clawed at the backdoor with shaky fingers until the latch came loose. The rooms inside were quiet, the scent of the owner vague in that way that meant he hadn’t been home for quite a few hours. 

He knew he shouldn’t be here, that the owner of the house could come back at any time, but he needed to get off the streets. It was too dangerous out there, he was too exposed. Every car that drove past, every person out for a late-night jog, even every stupid dog that started barking from a front yard… it was all a temptation. He couldn’t stand it.

But this house felt safe. He shut the door behind himself as best as he could and stumbled inside. He passed a laundry room, crashed through a kitchen that smelt faintly of both sugar cookies and lemonade, and found a lounge room. There were decorative throw pillows and a pile of fashion magazines stacked on the glass coffee table. It felt… homely. Familiar, in some sort of way, though he’d never been in a house like this before.

His strength waned as he glanced at the darkened stairwell. Vision swimming, he collapsed against the side of the couch, and sunk to the floor. Blood dripped from the gash in his forehead. It should have healed by now. Seeing his blood made his stomach clench. 

It wasn’t long before he completely passed out.

 

A chattering voice lured him back into consciousness. It wormed its way through his mind, pricking at his nerves, making some sort of instinct perk up deep in him. He forced his eyes open and gave a weak groan at the way his parched throat burned. His hunger was dizzying.

“Damn vampire, bleeding all over my new – new! – carpet,” the voice complained, as arms went around Keith’s shoulders, propping him upright. “How did you even get in, huh? You better not have broken a window, or so help me.”

It was a wolf looking down on him. Keith’s nose took a few moments to catch up with his bleary eyes, but the scent of wolf soon registered. Wolves typically smelt like wet dogs to vampires like Keith, but this one was different. Less like wet dog and more like… sugar cookies. Something a little spicy, and warm, like the sun. Keith had never smelt anything like it before. 

“Came through the door,” he croaked.

“Oh great, you’re awake.” The wolf didn’t sound cheerful. He had dark skin and dark hair, but his eyes were bright blue. “Care to explain why you broke into my house, hmm?”

“Safe.” Talking was making Keith’s throat dry up even more. He couldn’t force anymore words out after that. He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. The smell of the wolf’s blood was starting to drift closer, and it made Keith’s hunger rear up violently. If he wasn’t so injured, if he hadn’t been drained in a fight, then he would have been driven wild by that scent.

He’d never smelt anything like it.

“Woah okay, calm down there, fangs,” the wolf said. “I can hear your stomach rumbling. Just chill, I totally know how to fix this.”

Keith groaned. His fangs were dropping, nicking the inside of his bottom lip. He was starting to get shaky, but the wolf was strong enough to haul him up to his feet and keep him steady. 

“You are so lucky I have a vampire neighbour. I need you to work with me a bit here, yeah? Come on, get your vampy butt moving.”

Keith was limp. He let the wolf drag him into the kitchen, and made no protest when he was dumped across the counter. He heard rustling, and then the sound of a fridge door being slammed shut. The wolf propped him up again, letting Keith slump against him, chest to back. His head lolled to one side, eyes no doubt flashing red with hunger.

“You are so lucky my neighbour had an extra bag,” the wolf muttered. “Open up, fangs.”

Keith’s mouth opened. He recognised the plastic nozzle of a blood bag, one designed to store blood for vampires. Drinking straight out of them was clumsy, and that proved to be the case the moment the blood touched his tongue. His hands flashed up to clutch at the wolf’s fingers, curling around his slim wrists with a strength that was probably just a bit too much.

“Hey, calm down now,” the wolf said, softer this time. His voice had gained a worry tone – the rate at which Keith was drinking was probably quite concerning. “Don’t drink too fast or you’ll just throw it back up.”

He was right, of course. It took Keith several strong gulps to be lucid enough to realise that. He took slower mouthfuls, lifted his head to make sure he didn’t choke. He could feel the wolf’s hand on the back of his neck, supporting him. It was an oddly affectionate gesture, Keith thought. One he found himself liking. 

The bag was drained within moments. It wasn’t nearly enough to sustain him, but it was enough to stave off his rabid hunger. He licked his lips and his fangs clean when the bottle was empty and had enough of his mind to be embarrassed about how quickly and messily he’d drank it. 

“There we go.” The wolf tossed the empty bag into the sink and helped Keith back to the lounge room. “You have a lot of explaining to do, you know. But first I need you to rest, yeah?”

Keith nodded. He curled up against the couch cushions and tried to ignore how the wolf’s scent was making him feel sleepy and content. He wasn’t sure why, but he mumbled, “You’ll stay?”

The wolf seemed surprised by the question, but he sat down on the edge of the couch without question. “You’ve been through the ringer tonight, huh?” Gentle fingers prodded the wound on his head. It was slowly stitching itself back together. “Like I said, I’m going to have to get some answers from you, but… I’ll stay.”

Keith made a low noise, and curled his fingers around the wolf’s wrist again, holding it close. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to this wolf – or why he’d been drawn to this house – but he’d figure it out when he was better. Whatever it was, he was sure the wolf was feeling it too. No one else would have helped him so much, he was sure.


	92. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Sleepy

Things were tense in a quiet, sleepy sort of way. Shiro was very aware of everybody’s pressing problems – Keith struggling with making breakfast and lunch prep at the same time, Edelira having lost her favourite stuffed animal, Julio craving his Mama’s affection almost to the point of crying – but he had problems of his own. Including the two loads of laundry he was behind on, as well as the folding and sorting of the one load he had already managed to get done.

As Julio started to let out the first hint of whimpers, the ones that meant he was certainly going to start crying, Shiro decided enough was enough. He put his hands on his hips and let out a long sigh. 

“Alright, come here, baby boy,” Shiro said, scooping Julio out of his high seat. Breakfast wouldn’t be ready for a few more minutes, and Julio was a very cuddly baby. Some affection and light scenting always settled him down. “Keith, do you remember if Lance took Lira’s lion toy into his nest?”

“I think so,” Keith threw over his shoulder. He was busy chopping up fruit for Julio’s breakfast, and had already spread out vegetables for the day’s lunches. 

Shiro lifted Julio a little higher up his chest so that his son could reach his neck, where he immediately stuffed his little nose. He ran a hand down Julio’s back as he went searching for Edelira. She was sulking in the lounge room with her arms threaded through one of Lance’s more well-worn sweaters when he found her. “Still haven’t found your lion?”

Her pout deepened. “No.”

Shiro sighed again, but his voice was tinged with affection. She had the same pout as Lance, the one that made his heart go all topsy-turvy. “Want to go see if it’s in Mama’s nest?”

Edelira’s eyes glanced up at him, surprised. “But…”

Shiro gave her a little smile. “It’s alright.” He was always surprised by how considerate his children were of his omega, how loving and gentle they were. He’d heard a lot of horror stories about how children became jealous when another baby was on the way, but neither one of his kids had acted like that. If anything, they became protective of Lance, attentive to his every need. 

And one of the things they’d taught their kids to do was to be respectful of Lance’s nest. Lance had never once rejected them from entering it, but on the off chance he ever did, Shiro and Keith wanted the kids to be aware that they had to ask before going in. 

“Come on,” he encouraged, holding out his free hand. Edelira set aside Lance’s sweater and slipped off the couch, slipping her little hand into his. 

Together they trekked up the stairs to the second level. Julio was looking up now, eyes zeroed in on the door leading to Shiro and his mate’s bedroom. Lance had built a nest on their bed, and now that he was two weeks shy of his due date, he was spending most of his time in it. That left their household down one parent, thought Shiro preferred that over the idea of Lance trying to do anything so strenuous while heavily pregnant.

The door was slightly ajar, so Shiro inched it open with one foot. “Lance? You awake?”

Lance let out a little noise, and his head popped up from beneath the covers. He’d been incredibly exhausted lately, but any time he smelt a hint of either one of his children’s scents, he was instantly awake. “Yeah?”

“We’re looking for my lion, Mama,” Edelira said. 

Lance blinked sleepily, and glanced around at his nest. He dug around for a second and produced the lion in question, and sent his daughter a triumphant grin. “Found it. Sorry for borrowing him, baby.”

Edelira matched his smile as she darted to the edge of the bed to take her toy back. “I can keep him for a bit, Mama?”

“Of course.” Lance leaned over to nuzzle the side of her head. “Are you being good for your fathers?”

“They’re being fantastic,” Shiro said. 

Lance smiled, sleepy and content. “Good. I’m glad.” He was starting to nod off again, unable to help himself. 

Shiro ushered the children back out. Edelira was calmer now that she had her toy, and Julio was settled after being near Lance, which meant that a lot of Shiro’s problems had been resolved. When he wandered back into the kitchen, breakfast was ready on the table, and lunch was set aside in Tupperware containers. 

“All good?” Shiro asked, as he passed behind Keith, leaning against him for a moment.

“Yeah, all good,” Keith said. He put the dirty plates in the sink and turned to take Julio from him, putting the boy back in his high chair. 

Breakfast commenced. Shiro kept one eye on the children and one ear out for Lance, hearing him snuffle in his sleep every now and then. After breakfast, he entertained the kids in the backyard for a while, served lunch when midday rolled around, put Julio down for his nap, and let Edelira spend the afternoon colouring and watching cartoons. He and Keith set to catching up on household chores, including checking up with Lance’s hospital appointments and cleaning the new nursery. 

When it came time for afternoon snacks, Shiro went to get Julio, only to find him gone from the daybed where he liked to take his naps. He frowned, and went to see if Julio had wandered into the kitchen as he sometimes did, but he found Keith instead. 

“Did you see Edelira go up the stairs?” Keith asked.

“No. She’s not in the lounge room?”

“No.”

“Julio’s not on the daybed.”

“He’s not? Where’d he go?”

Shiro glanced towards the stairs. Keith seemed to be thinking the same thing he was. They both ventured upstairs and to the bedroom, where the door had been pushed open. When Shiro peeked inside, he couldn’t help but smile.

His kids had found their way into the bed, lying as close to Lance as they could possibly get. Julio was tucked into Lance’s arms, curled up around his pregnant belly. Edelira was leaning against Lance’s back, her arms folded on Lance’s waist, where she was resting her head. All three were asleep, looking as comfortable as ever.

Keith had his phone out of his pocket to take photos in an instant. Shiro knew they’d get sent to his phone. 

Not for the first time, he couldn’t help but think he had the sweetest family in the world.


	93. Allura/Lance/Shiro - Siren

The hunters arrived when June’s first storm hit. Rain had been threatening to fall for days, the sky heavy with rolling clouds. Lance had always been attuned to the weather, able to sense when a storm approached. When the first hint of lightning started, the hunters appeared.

He’d always been able to sense them coming. They carried with them a bad aura, one that made the hair on the back of his neck stand. It was like that for a lot of supernaturals. Some instinct rose its head in them, sensed when danger was imminent. It wasn’t like supernaturals weren’t dangerous to one another, because they certainly were, but hunters were on a different level. Humans with the skills and technology to all kinds of supernaturals were very bad news.

Still, there was little he could do. Sometimes hunters came and went, or were distracted by a hunt. Lance hadn’t done anything to draw attention to himself, and if he went running, or stopped showing up for school, then the hunters were sure to notice. 

So life continued. The storm came, then eased, and the hunters appeared in town. Lance saw one, a woman with a cloud of silvery hair, by the local library. She had unusually perceptive eyes, and had watched him return books when she thought he wouldn’t notice, but he could sense it. There was another at the bar where Lance sometimes worked nights, one with a prosthetic arm and a scar across his nose. Seeing them unnerved him.

One of Lance’s friends, a supernatural, approached him about it a week after the storm. He and Hunk had been best friends since Lance first moved to the town several years ago. It wasn’t usual for supernaturals to find one another, and depending on what they were, to form alliances. Werewolves would form packs, for example. Mages and witches would form covens. Vampires would form clans. Merfolk would form gossips. Sometimes these groups overlapped – collectively, territories could be controlled by packs formed of any variety of supernaturals, though such packs were almost always led by an alpha werewolf.

The territory Lance lived in had no alpha werewolf, as far as he was aware, but there were no packs or any other groups of supernaturals, either. There was him, and Hunk – a were-bear – and a few others that were relatively peaceful. It was sort of an unspoken rule that none of them would try to take the territory by force. 

“What do you think the hunters are here for?” Hunk asked, as they lounged on Lance’s back porch, watching the rain start up again. 

“No idea,” Lance said.

Hunk peered at him, brown eyes inquisitive and anxious. “You’re not getting any… you know? Feelings about them?”

“Nope.” Lance tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m not a compass for bad things, you know.”

“You kind of are.”

“More like I’m meant to make bad things happen,” Lance snorted. “I’d rather not get involved in anything they’re doing. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. It never is.”

Hunk nodded in agreement. They lapsed into silence, and the rain fell. Lance tilted his head back, letting it rest against the plush cushion on the patio chair. He was safely undercover, his clothes dry, but he could feel the rain sliding across his skin, dampening his hair, dripping off his chin. There was nothing in the world like it.

“As long as they don’t suspect us…” Lance started, after letting out a slow breath. “As long as they don’t suspect us, then we have nothing to worry about. They’ll come and go. Just like the storm.”

“Is that one of those feelings?”

“Please stop asking about my feelings, Hunk. You sound like a councillor.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Hunk gave him a sheepish grin. “It’s just, your feelings are usually right about these things.”

They were always right, actually, but Lance didn’t say anything. Most of the time he couldn’t make sense of the feelings he got, not until the danger was much, much closer. He still didn’t have complete control over his powers. It would be a few more years before he completely matured and came into his voice. 

Until then, it was dangerous to use his powers. Not only for others, but for himself, too.

“Let’s just agree to be careful, yeah?” Lance said, glancing at Hunk.

“Yeah, good idea.” Hunk sunk into his seat. He still looked nervous, but he was much stronger than he thought he was, and his cautious nature kept him safe. Lance hoped it would stay that way. 

Of course, things tended to do the opposite of what he hoped.

The hunter activity in the town picked up. He saw another hunter, one with dark hair and a dagger, down by the lake. There was another with bright orange hair that wandered through the grocery store while Lance was buying fish for dinner. When he saw the first two again, the one with silver hair and the other with a scar, something in their dynamic seemed to change.

They started appearing more frequently after that.

But just those two.

He saw the silver-haired woman watching him from a nearby café when he went for breakfast one morning. Another time, he saw the man with the scar in a parking lot, leaning against a motorcycle with a helmet tucked under his arm. The first time he saw them together was when he was back down at the lake, sitting on one of the three small jetties that stretched over the water like wooden fingers. He spent a lot of time at the lake. The hunters seemed to realise that.

The first time they spoke, the hunters had been following him, and he hadn’t noticed. It was raining, the town awash in cold water. Lance had been picking up fresh fish from the local seafood store when he’d gotten caught out in it. He stood there with the paper-wrapped fish clutched in his arms, partially covered by the open sides of his hoodie, when he’d sensed them behind him. The rain always heightened his senses, but in a way it dulled them, too. It made him extremely perceptive to supernatural things by dampening the human world.

He stood there for a moment, soaked to the bones, just watching the hunters. They were standing side-by-side under the awning, dressed in their dark clothes and leather jackets, looking infuriatingly like two models just off a runway. Dangerous, supernatural-killing models, but stupidly attractive anyway. 

“What do you want?” He finally asked. Already his nerves were making his power curl in his throat, like an air bubble growing bigger and bigger. The sound of the rain was fading in and out, replaced by a high piercing sound that rang faintly like bells if he listened too closely.

The woman frowned at him, and took a step forwards. “What are you?” She demanded.

Lance tilted his head to the side, playing the confused human role. “Huh?”

Sometimes, acting human tricked hunters. Or at least put them off his tail long enough for him to get away. He was hoping that this would be the case now.

But – of course – it wasn’t.

The woman opened her mouth to speak, her frown deepening, but a sound cut her off. It was a growling roar, one that echoed over the town on a level that rattled Lance’s bones. It sounded frightened, and it was a sound Lance would know anywhere.

“Hunk,” he whispered. 

His mind went black. He’d dropped the fish and took off for the tree line across the road before he could think better of it. He heard the hunters swear and take off after him, but he was faster. He moved so quickly that the rain hardly had a change to fall on him. Trees rushed by in a blur, and not once did he lose his footing.

“Hunk!” The shout burst out of his throat with a raspy crackle. The rain falling in through the trees splattered away from him as if thrown back by a magnetic force. Already his voice, his true voice, was starting to leak through. 

A roar answered him.

Lance ran faster.

He found Hunk where the forest trees were thinner, easier to manoeuvre around. He had shifted, his enormous bear form rocketing through the trees, his thick fur wild. Hunters were hot on his trail, three of them Lance had never seen before. Two had guns raised, red beams marking spots on Hunk’s flank. The other had a loaded crossbow raised.

A crossbow that presumably fired the arrow sticking out of Hunk’s side.

“No,” Lance shouted, as fear and rage boiled up in him like a tsunami. His voice erupted out of him with the pain of a muscle that hadn’t been used in too long. _“No!”_

The shout shattered the air like a bullet. The hunters were flung by an invisible force, their weapons sent flying. His scream rippled and rippled, slowed time, made the rain ascend back into the sky. 

A lot of legends said that the voice of a young siren sounded like a banshee. They were almost the same in terms of power, but where a banshee predicted death, a siren would grow to facilitate death. To mesmerise. To lull. To lure people to their end with sweet words and piercing screams. 

Their voice was a weapon.

Lance sucked in a harsh breath. Everything was slow as he spun around, lurching towards Hunk. The bear was slumped at the base of a tree, head bowed. 

Feeling the effect of Lance’s scream.

Lance heard clicks. He stumbled over his own feet, rounding to face the hunters, standing between them and his friend. He could hear his own voice ricocheting around his head, drowning out the sound of his harsh breathing, the sound of the rain.

The sound of the other hunters arriving.

But it didn’t drown out the sound of bullets.

Lance flinched as the first bullet cracked through the air. He expected to feel pain, but he was shocked when he saw one of the hunters jerk back. Blood seeped out of the hole in his shoulder. When he fell, he didn’t get back up.

The woman with the silver hair lowered her gun.

A hunter shooting a hunter? Lance stared at them, incredulous. He flinched, stumbling back when the man with the scar ran to him, his own gun drawn. He didn’t point it at Lance. Instead, he pointed it at the hunters. He was so close that Lance could hear his breathing, see the sweat beading on his forehead.

He didn’t want to shoot the other hunters. Why wasn’t he shooting Lance or Hunk? 

Something strange flittered through Lance’s chest. Something instinctual. All these weeks, the hunters had been watching him, leaning where he went, when he went. They could have cornered him or killed him when he didn’t notice them, or when he was distracted. Despite all his best efforts, he knew he wasn’t unbreakable, that he had weak points. So why hadn’t they? Why hadn’t they killed him?

A gunfight broke out between the two remaining hunters, and the pair that had come to Lance’s defense. Bullets flew through the air, breaking bark from trees and narrowly sailing past them. One of the other hunters went down, but the one remaining had better aim.

The woman let out a short scream as blood burst from her leg. She fell to one knee, clutching the wound as blood pulsed out from between her fingers. 

“Allura!” The man with the scar shouted.

Seeing her blood running down her leg did something to Lance. His voice welled up again, quicker and heavier than ever before. “Get down,” he said.

The man whirled around to face him, but still didn’t aim the gun at him. His eyes were so brown from this close.

“Get down!” Lance repeated. The moment the man dropped to the ground, Lance screamed.

The sound that left him was unlike anything he’d ever made before.

It was loud. So loud it drowned out everything else, until he couldn’t even hear himself anymore, could only feel the hot vibrations of it leaving his throat. The woman clutched her bloody hands to her head, head bowed. The man did the same, crouching low as if to shield himself from debris. The hunters left standing shrieked as their ears started to bleed. Lance’s scream was enough to throw them back, to make the rain stop again.

It only ended when Lance couldn’t hold his breath any longer.

The moment the noise stopped, the hunters crumpled to the ground like bits of paper. The woman looked up, her hair a tangled mess of silver and leaves shaken loose from the trees by Lance’s voice. Her mouth moved, but her words were swallowed by the deafening void Lance left behind.

His head spun. Dizziness immediately overwhelmed him. He’d never screamed like that, never made a noise so powerful. Sirens like him were like bombs waiting to go off, and unleashing that power before they fully matured was reckless. He could already feel his fingers and toes going cold as black dots danced before his eyes.

The man caught him before he could hit the ground. Muscled arms went around him, propping him up, trying to stop his head from lolling. 

Somewhere deep inside him, he was glad these hunters were safe. 

A cloud of silver moved in front of his blurry vision. Hands touched his face, trying to urge him to stay awake, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. He heard the sound of bones popping, and then Hunk calling his name over and over, but he sounded so far away.

He just wanted to sleep.

So sleep was what he did.


	94. Keith/Lance - Dark

Keith held Lance’s hands in both of his, fingers overlapping fingers. They were sitting on the dorm floor, Keith leaning back against Lance’s bed, his knees bent. Lance sat in between his thighs, folded up as tightly as he could get, his back resting against Keith’s chest. He was scared, but too stubborn to say anything. Keith didn’t mention it either, though he could feel faint tremors in Lance’s hands every now and then.

It was normal for people to be scared of the dark, he thought. Not only was it impossible to see, but noises became louder, and imaginations ran wild. It was disorientating to be in the dark. Bumping into things, fearing that someone could appear out of nowhere, being unable to orient oneself… how was that not frightening?

Of course, most people grew out of that fear as they became older. It was seen as childish to be afraid of the dark, though most people were certainly afraid of what was in it. 

But Lance didn’t like the dark. He flourished in the sunshine, loved the summer, and – infuriatingly – was a morning person. He always crashed early at night, and usually slept straight through until his alarm woke him up. Keith knew this because he was the opposite. He’d wake up at random intervals during the night, never for too long, and fall asleep quite quickly again. He tended to rise early and sleep late. Sharing a bed with Lance changed his habits.

Currently, the only reason why the room was dark was because there was a power outage. A storm had been impending all afternoon, and when night came, so did it. There were a few brownouts around dinner, and then a massive blackout struck, and the power hasn’t come back on since. Lance’s laptop died halfway through a movie they were watching, so they’d settled on the floor. Lance had a bunch of fancy candles that they’d lit, but the light was still dim, and it set Lance on edge. 

At first, Keith couldn’t understand why Lance was so afraid of the dark. For the most part, Lance didn’t really understand it either. He’d once told Keith that he had a lot of nightmares when he was a kid, and while they’d tapered off when he was a teenager, they hadn’t left altogether. And since nightmares only came when he was sleeping – at night – he grew to fear the dark. 

It was something Keith never teased him about. They argued and bickered all the time, but this was different to the other things Keith could use when he was teasing Lance. The only reason he knew about Lance’s fears was because Lance trusted him with that information. Trusted him enough to tell him about them. 

That’s why Keith took his duty of comforting Lance when it was dark very seriously. Perhaps more serious than Lance himself took it.

But if it was an excuse to get to cuddle with his boyfriend, then who was complaining?


	95. Keith/Lance - Blue

The world was blue.

Blue water, blue skies, blue flowers. Blue pens, blue paint, blue crayons. Blueberries. Bluebirds. Bluebells. Sapphires. Robin eggs. Eyes.

Lance had always seen the world in shades of blue. It was a colour that was stronger than all the others. He used to think that having blue eyes like he did meant that everything was always a slight shade of blue. 

As he grew up, he realised his fascination with the colour wasn’t such a good thing.

All of his history books talked about times when humans couldn’t control colours. Even now it was a rare ability. A dangerous ability, most thought. A feared ability. The fact that Lance had it was unexpected and a little terrifying. Most of the time it manifested in teenagers who were old enough to know that they had to hide it unless they wanted to be taken away.

Lance was a child when it first happened to him. He must have only been ten or eleven. With three siblings and a revolving door of cousins and aunties, his household was always busy. Things got lost all the time. It was easy to overlook the moment when Lance first pulled a swatch of blue out of the cover of a book.

Harder to miss the second time it happened, though.

Lance could understand why people were afraid of those with abilities. It could be dangerous, turning colour into matter, and matter into a weapon. Every week there were reports on the news about a new attack, something new to fear. But it wasn’t like everyone with powers was bad. He didn’t think he was bad.

His parents were frightened when they realised what he could do, but they were never frightened of what he could do. They were scared that someone would hurt him because of what he was, or that the police force would be after him. They would be, if they caught wind of him.

He managed to hide it for a few years, until he graduated high school. He could control it to some extent even without training, but it was a volatile power, one that came unbidden when he was emotional or stressed. One slipup at school, one instance of stealing the blue from another student’s bad and splattering it across the wall, and normality was lost to him.

There was always a small part of him that planned what he’d do if something like that happened. After he’d been exposed he fled school before the day ended, panicked and flushed. No one had been home when he’d snuck in the back door, and a part of him was relieved about that. It made leaving easier.

He didn’t say goodbye.

A month later, and he found himself in a foreign city, completely broke, and still on the run. He found somewhere to sleep during the day and moved at night. The city was a good place to be for a person like him – it thrived with colour, and was crowded enough to get lost in. It was safer to be where there were blue things he could use to defend himself. 

More than anything, he missed his family. They would know that something had gone wrong, that he hadn’t been able to control his powers. He’d seen his face on television a week after he’d run away, and had to lie low since. If he contacted them, or got them involved in any way, then they’d be in danger. He couldn’t do that to them, even if it meant he couldn’t see them again.

The city was oddly refreshing at night. Lance walked around hunched into his sweater, a hood pulled over his head to partially mask his features. He tried not to look suspicious, and stuck to the outer edges of towns, where street lights were dim and shady convenience stores were open at all hours. He’d gotten good at stealing what he needed when his money had run out. He hated doing it, but sometimes it was necessary. Starving to death was not an option.

That night, it was cloudy. Rain had been drizzling for hours. Lance was in a really bad part of town, where neon lights cast glowing reflections against damp roads, and the sound of glass shattering punctured the air every hour or so form shitty bars and sleazy nightclubs. It was the kind of area police rarely came to, he’d found out. There was so much bad shit going on that they just didn’t bother.

It was just coincidence that he was recognised, he thought. 

He was off in an instant. Living on the streets had taught him to listen to his gut instincts, and when he got the sense that he was being watched, heard the first whispers of doubt from passing strangers, he knew to run.

Dark alleyways and backstreets helped him shake off the people who’d recognised him. He slapped a hand against a graffiti-covered wall and moulded a handhold out of blue words scrawled in the mess of colours to vault himself over it. When shouts followed him, he used the blue on a mailbox to create marbles that he threw behind him. They were harmless, but normal people were always scared of anything he made. The marbles bought him time to get away.

He ran and ran. Streets passed by so fast that he quickly became lost, and even when he shook off his pursuers, he didn’t slow. He couldn’t. It wasn’t safe.

Eventually he ducked into a dark alleyway between two brick buildings. It was lined with damp boxes and trashcans that smelt awful, but it was sheltered. Glowing red neon signs from the adjacent buildings gave him just enough light to see by. He stood with his shoulder blades pressed to the bricks and tried to catch his breath, head bowed.

“What are you doing?”

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice. He stumbled backwards, hand fumbling for one of the crates stacked beside him. They were the kind that used to be used for milk bottles, made from blue plastic. The colour leached into his skin, staining his fingers and nails blue as it shifted agitatedly under his palm.

The boy standing at the end of the alleyway held his hands up. He looked startled by Lance’s quick reaction, but not surprised by his ability. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

Lance didn’t believe him. Of course he didn’t. But he’d never been confronted like this, and he didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing but stand there panting for breath.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the boy repeated, firmer. His eyes were oddly bright with the reflection of the neon lights above them. “See?” He pressed a hand to the bricks and absorbed all the red from them, taking the reflection of the neon light with him. A grey patch was left in its place, one that slowly closed as the colour naturally recovered on its own, something that only happened if it wasn’t taken from the source. Lance had once taken the blue from a river, leaving clear water behind, though it had coloured again when the water continued to run.

“Who are you?” Lance demanded. He didn’t let go of the blue collected in his palm. Just because this boy was like him didn’t mean he was friendly.

“My name is Keith,” he said. “I can help you.”

Lance hesitated. “Why?”

“Because we’re the same.” The red in Keith’s hand condensed, forming a long, solid hexagonal shape, not unlike a crystal. He spun it between his fingers before discarding it, letting it clatter noisily to the ground. “There’s a place for people like us – where we can live safely. They found me just like I found you and took me in. I can help you, if you let me.”

Lance bit his lip. He was so tired, and so hungry. He hated stealing food and sleeping in abandoned cars. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.” Keith took a step towards him, hands raised. “But I swear I’m not lying.”

Lance didn’t step back.

“I saw you on the news,” Keith continued. “You left so your family would be safe, right? You didn’t have to do that. You could have hid behind them. But you’re stronger than that.”

“I wouldn’t count living on the street as some brave act,” Lance scoffed.

“But it is,” Keith insisted, inching forwards, step by step. When he reached Lance, he gently lowered Lance’s blue hand, and waited for the colour to leech away. Up close, his eyes were bright and fierce. “Come with me. You don’t have to suffer out here anymore.”

Something in Lance ached for that to be the truth. All the hiding, the running… being scared of getting caught… it weighed on him heavily. He could see the same pain reflected in Keith, even if it was distant, like a fading memory. He didn’t think Keith was lying to him. What reason could he have in doing so? If he wanted to hurt Lance, he could have by now. Maybe he really just wanted to help someone like him. Someone with the same ability. The same curse.

“Okay,” Lance said, voice weak. “Okay. I’ll come.”

Keith nodded. He didn’t make a big deal about it. Instead, he took Lance’s bag from him and shouldered it, and wrapped his fingers around Lance’s wrist. It was an oddly protective gesture. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the cold.”


	96. Lance/Shiro - Birds

“No, no, the bird was fine,” Lance laughed, as he waved a hand. “I let it rest for a while and it flew away the next morning, completely healed.”

Shiro gave him a small smile, looking more amused at Lance’s enthusiasm than the story itself. “Do birds often fly into your windows?”

“Surprisingly, they do,” Lance snorted. “Must be the way the light reflects off the glass or something, but I always hear birds crashing against it when the windows are closed. I sort of just leave the windows open so they can fly in and out however they want.”

“And they’re not scared of you?”

“Nah. My grandmother used to feed the crows dog biscuits so all the birds around her house loved her. She used to get us kids to do the same so that the birds wouldn’t swoop on us or anything. They’re really friendly. I converted the old lounge room into a studio so it’s not too troublesome to let the birds in.”

Shiro hummed. 

They continued to walk in silence, with Lance’s dog trotting along ahead of them. Blue, a border collie with blue eyes, was only just learning to walk on a lead. She’d finally gotten all of her puppy vaccinations and the vet had cleared her for walks and socialisation with other dogs. Lance had taken to walking her every evening, and Shiro had started joining him recently. It was a chance for them to be together outside of the house. They weren’t… hiding their relationship, but it still felt so new, and neither one of them really wanted to deal with sharing it yet. It was a very private feeling they shared.

“Blue is going much better than last week,” Shiro remarked, as he glanced down at the dog.

Lance nodded in agreement. Last week, when he’d started taking Blue for walks, she’d been very skittish around loud cars, and liked to jump and pull on the lead when people walked past. He’d been teaching her not to jump on people, and it was starting to take effect now. She seemed to enjoy her walks a lot more when she wasn’t distracted by every little thing going on around her.

“She’ll get used to it all eventually,” Lance said.

Shiro smiled to himself. He had a handsome smile, Lance thought. Sometimes they were small and secretive, like he was looking in on his thoughts instead of out at the world. It was one of Lance’s favourite smiles to see on Shiro. 

“I’ll have to come over when the weather is nice,” Shiro said. “See the birds.”

Lance grinned, his cheeks going red. He’d had Shiro over before, but it was usually at night for dinner, or just in passing. “You can totally feed them, too. I keep stocks of birdseed now.”

“Do you?”

“Yep.” Lance’s grin broadened at the sight of Shiro’s amused smile. That was another one of his favourites. 

Come to think of it, they were probably all his favourite.


	97. Keith/Lance - Compliment

Keith didn’t often give out compliments. It was a bad habit, but socialising had never come naturally to him, and he was only ever really comfortable around a select few people. Most just assumed he fit into the “aloof alpha” stereotype, and they weren’t exactly wrong. He was never really tempted by omegas, didn’t posture around other alphas, and was good at keeping to himself when most people were driven to form pack bonds.

That changed, of course. Lately he’d enjoyed feeling pack bonds with his friends, and he’d started dating an omega. If it really came down to it, Keith would say he would’ve dated Lance regardless of his designation. There was something about the way Lance bickered with him, about the way Lance never backed down from an argument with him. It was addicting.

He was lucky that Lance had just as much interest in him as he did in Lance.

Being with Lance had prompted Keith to start thinking about his behaviour. He’d never really dated before, but being with Lance made him want to do all of that… cheesy, romantic stuff. He knew Lance would like it – that’s why he wanted to do it. Suddenly jumping into all that was something he most definitely couldn’t do, but he figured starting small was a good way to go. So, compliments. He was already thinking them, so voicing them should have been easy.

“That shirt looks good,” Keith said one evening, when they were preparing to go out. He’d gone over to pick Lance up but, like usual, found Lance still trying to get ready. For someone who was always so beautiful, he took a surprisingly long time to dress himself. “On you, I mean.”

Lance had given him a strange, flustered look. “Thanks.”

Keith really liked giving compliments to Lance, he found. 

“You’re really good at cooking,” he said one morning, when Lance had made breakfast. 

“Thank you,” Lance said, wearing the same flushed expression as before. 

Keith really, really liked giving Lance compliments.

The more he did it, the easier it became. Lance’s little flushed smiles and the way his scent would spike with something undeniably pleased were all the rewards Keith needed for stepping out of his comfort zone. There was just something about making his omega feel happy and handsome that had compliments pouring from Keith. 

Eventually Lance caught on. He was smarter than people gave him credit for, and although it took him a bit, he did notice when Keith was starting to become more affectionate. “You’ve been giving me a lot of compliments lately,” he said, while they were curled up together on his bed watching a movie on his laptop. It was more for background noise, really, because spending time together like this usually ended up in either quiet conversations or drifting but comfortable silence. 

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking,” Keith told him. “And I’m always thinking about how amazing you are.”

Lance flushed again, squirming in that delighted way of his, unable to contain his smile. “Since when were you such a sap, huh?”

Keith thought that he’d become this way when he met Lance, because he certainly wasn’t before, but he didn’t say it. Instead he just shrugged, offering a smile, and lapsed into quiet again. Lance pressed closer, his scent warm and pleased. They both went back to the movie.

For the most part, Keith really didn’t give out compliments often. But for Lance? He had thousands of them stored up, ready to be spoken at a moment’s notice. He had a lifetime to use them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I submitted my last major essay tonight, I feel so free haha. Tomorrow I have a driving test, and then this weekend I'll be going to Sydney Supanova, but after that I'll be free to update some of my longer stories and very likely start a new series for this, because it's already almost 100 chapters long (when did that happen!) ^^


	98. Keith/Lance - Haircut

Lance ran his hand over his head, fingers threaded through his hair. He turned his head one way, then the next, leaning closer to look at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, critical and assessing. 

“What do you think?” The hairdresser asked, as she unclipped the cape from around Lance’s neck, shaking it free of hair. “Good?”

He grinned at his reflection, self-conscious but undeniably pleased. “Yeah, looks great. Thanks.”

He hadn’t had a proper haircut in a while, not one that was more than just the usual trim to fend off split ends. He always had an aunty or a cousin that was willing to cut his hair for free, so he’d never really had the motivation to go to a proper place and get something experimental or exciting done. In reality, he’d had the same hairstyle for years – it worked for him, so why change it? That’s what he’d thought when new hairstyles came into fashion.

The reflection that stared back at him, however, was completely changed.

There wasn’t really a single thing that had him opting for a change in style. He wanted a change, that was surely part of it. Something different and new. He was always teasing Keith about his hair – he had a mullet, for goodness’ sake – but it made him think about his own style, too. Lance was admittedly quite image conscious, so when Keith snapped back about his own hair, he took it to heart.

A new style was definitely just what he needed.

His hair was shorter now, his fringe pushed back instead of falling across his forehead. It was like there was a draft on the back of his neck now, which was weird. He couldn’t stop rubbing his neck. 

It took a little bit of getting used to. His mother fawned over his new hair and Pidge – his neighbour – mocked him, but that was just her way of saying she didn’t hate it, which was pretty much as good as it got from her. If Lance were being honest, it was Keith’s reaction he was most anxious about. He’d sort of, maybe, kind of developed a crush on Keith…? Just a small one, he thought. Totally manageable. 

Meeting with their friend group produced a mix of responses. Allura teased him and ruffled his hair. Hunk complimented him – and Hunk’s compliments were the best. Shiro was quiet but approving, which was nice. He wasn’t very talkative but Lance thought he could read him well. Keith- well, Keith looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“You cut your hair,” he choked out, when the others had gone back to the conversations they’d been having before Lance arrived. 

“Yeah,” Lance said, frowning, as he rubbed the back of his neck. “What about it?”

Keith spluttered for a moment, looking like he had no idea what to say. His face was steadily becoming redder and redder. “It’s short.”

Lance tried not to roll his eyes. “Yes, it is. And?”

“It’s… short.”

“Yeah, you just said that,” Lance said slowly.

The tips of Keith’s ears went redder. “Uh…”

Huffing, Lance turned away. He could feel heat crawling up his neck and was painfully aware that his hair no longer covered it. Assimilating himself into Hunk’s conversation gave him a chance to cool off. Did Keith like the way he looked, then? Why else would he have gone so red? He still hadn’t started talking, either. Lance could feel him staring. 

Shorter hair was good, he decided. Especially if it got such a flustered reaction out of Keith.


	99. Lance/Shiro - Attentive

A bad dream disturbed Lance’s rest. It made him twitch, made his brow furrow as conflicting emotions crossed his face. They were a recent development, the bad dreams. Or they had recently become more aggressive, more consistent, anyway.

Sometimes he remembered what he dreamed about when it was particularly bad. Most of the time he didn’t. That was a recent development, too. Most of the time dreams left him with vague impressions or half-formed memories when he woke up, something to at least remind him a little of what he’d been dreaming of. But these ones usually left him with nothing but sweat-soaked sheets and a frantic heartbeat.

That night, he woke up with nothing more than a fading recollection of something bad happening. He knew that something frightening had happened in the dream, that he’d lost someone or experienced something painful, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Being unable to remember what the dream was didn’t stop it from frightening him when awake. He was covered in sweat, and he could feel himself shaking a little. It took several minutes for him to calm down.

He wasn’t quite enough to not wake Shiro, who had been peacefully sleeping beside him. What they had was new too, and felt almost… fragile. But in a good way, he thought. A very good way. 

“Lance? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he forced out, his voice throaty and weak. 

Shiro wasn’t convinced. He pushed himself upright, blinking away sleep from his eyes as he leaned over to put a warm hand on lance’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“Bad dream,” Lance whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Shiro shifted over, tucking Lance against his chest with his arm. “Are you alright?”

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer. His shaking was dying down, and his heartrate was slowly returning to a more comfortable level. He took the chance to press against Shiro, who was warm and solid and real. Just him being there helped. “I think so.”

Shiro hummed, and ran his hand up and down Lance’s back. “You remember what it was about?”

He shook his head, despondent.

Remaining quiet, Shiro kept up his gentle ministrations, lulling Lance back into sleepiness. He pressed his nose against Shiro’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of him. He’d always thought that Shiro was strong, like an unmoving pillar. Getting to know another side of him through their budding relationship showed him that Shiro was soft and considerate, too. He had a very straight forward way of seeing the world, and if he thought that physical affection could help someone, then he’d draw them in close. He was very attentive to Lance’s emotional needs, perhaps without realising so. It was one of the things that had Lance connecting to him when they first showed interest in one another.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Any time,” Shiro said, his voice quiet and honest. He pressed a lingering kiss to Lance’s forehead before laying them back down. After fiddling with the bed sheets for a moment, pulling them over the both of them, he slung an arm around Lance’s waist and rested his head on his pillow. “Try and get some sleep, okay? I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Lance nodded, cuddling closer. He closed his eyes and waited until he felt Shiro’s breathing even out before letting out a long exhale. He felt better. The weight of Shiro’s arm was comforting. There was nothing better for curing his anxieties than Shiro’s gentle, unobtrusive caring. It made him love Shiro all the more for it.


	100. Keith/Lance - First

Lance shivered as he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders. The wind had a chilling bite to it, and he was torn between shoving his hands in his pockets or using them to hold his hood up around his face. It was going to start snowing soon, he could feel it in the air.

“This way, Lance,” Keith said, grabbing Lance by the elbow to guide him.

“Okay, okay,” Lance grumbled. He rubbed at his nose and tried to ignore the way his insides were shaking. His heat was coming closer, and he certainly didn’t want to be out in the snow. “How much further is the cabin?”

“Not far.” Keith slid his hand down Lance’s arm, pressing their palms together. “Come on, let’s hurry up.”

Wisely, Lance kept his grumblings to himself, and let Keith drag him along. True to his word, the cabin was only a few more minutes up the path. It looked old, even if Lance knew it was going to be well-kept inside. From what Keith had told him about it, it used to be his dad’s, and had since fallen to the care of his mother. Krolia wasn’t around that much – she was always busy with work, or something or other – but she often encouraged Keith to use the cabin if he ever needed some space to himself, or a time out from society, or anything like that.

After some fiddling with the front door, they were inside. Keith directed Lance into the living room and had him sit down on the couch. Lance was so cold that he could do little more than shiver as Keith set to getting a fire started.

This was not exactly what he had in mind when they’d planned to spend their first heat together. The weather had taken an abrupt turn for the cold a few days ago, and was likely only going to get worse. Lance wasn’t on suppressants anymore and didn’t want to block his heat when he was so close to it, but they’d decided to go to the cabin anyway. All of their bags and provisions had been taken care of in the morning, but by the time they made their way up the sloping stairs to the cabin, it was freezing outside.

Once Keith got the fire going, he moved around the cabin, doing little things to help it stay warmer quicker. He shut the curtains, and when he went into what Lance guessed was the kitchen, he could hear the kettle going. After a moment of disappearing, Keith returned from the hallway with his arms laden with blankets and pillows. He gave them all to Lance before moving off again.

Lance was starting to warm up. He liked the look of all the blankets, and started arranging them on the couch, letting his instincts guide him. He’d always been a bit of an avid nest builder, and while he wasn’t about to go crazy this time round, he certainly did want to make a comfortable nest to relax in. Even better if it was right by the fire.

Soon enough, he had a nest all built, and he was no longer cold. He spent some time exploring the cabin while Keith was busy, finding where the bedroom and bathroom was, and where Keith had raided the hallway closet for blankets. Considering they weren’t going anywhere, Lance changed into pyjamas before returning to his nest.

When everything was done, Keith changed too, and joined Lance. He had made hot chocolate, and passed Lance a steaming mug before sliding into the nest beside him. “Feeling better?” Keith asked.

“Much,” Lance confirmed, grinning, as he sipped at his hot chocolate. He leaned against Keith’s side and tucked his feet under him as he cradled the mug between his hands. Keith’s scent was starting to layer the room, and it was heady and strong. His scent always became a little sharper, a little more noticeable as Lance’s body went through its cycles. Even if he never went into a full heat, his body did react in small ways, and as such so did Keith’s.

“It’s going to start snowing tonight,” Keith told him. “I checked the weather forecast.”

“We didn’t bring snow gear.”

“No, but there’s some around here somewhere. We don’t really have to leave until your heat is over, do we? We’ve already got everything we need.”

“That’s true,” Lance agreed. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. When Lance was finished with his hot chocolate, he set aside his mug and draped himself across Keith’s lap, content to rest across his mate. Keith’s fingers passed through his hair, quiet and affectionate. 

Lance thought that he’d become nervous the closer to his heat he became, but Keith’s presence was quite comforting. He trusted Keith to take care of him, and he was comfortable around Keith, even knowing how vulnerable his heat was going to make him become.

“You can sleep if you want,” Keith said.

Lance hummed, his eyelids drooping. He rearranged the blankets over him as he settled more firmly against Keith, his head pillowed on Keith’s thighs. The warmth from the fire was making him drowsy, and sleep sounded good right about then. There was something undeniably pleasant about knowing he was safe and warm inside, far away from distractions and other people, with just his mate to keep him company.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, as he closed his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keith assured him. He traced his fingertips down Lance’s cheek and across his jaw. “Sleep,” he urged.

Lance found it hard to resist once his eyes were closed. He breathed in Keith’s scent and listened to the crackle of the fire. Even knowing what was to come, he wasn’t nervous. He’d been a bit apprehensive when they’d planned to come here, but he didn’t regret it at all. 

Spending his first heat with his alpha had to be special, and he had no doubt it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh another hundred done! Thanks for sticking around so long ❤
> 
> Like on the last part, feel free to tell me which of these hundred you'd most like to see continued! I still want to continue a bunch from before, when I get the chance haha. I'll probably start another installation of this series either tomorrow or the day after, so keep an eye out for it!


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